May 7, 1146

We haven't been to Bandera since before Mother died.

I don't know why this is. Arkon and I are related to the earl's family through our father--his late sister was the countess--but my mother was only a cousin of hers, and only a second cousin to the earl himself. My father is certainly their closer kin, but for whatever reason, I find this place more closely associated with my mother than with him. Perhaps this is because during every visit, my father and the earl would all but lock themselves in the study, discussing all the current affairs that were of no interest to us children. It was their favorite pastime, and we respected that, so we didn't bother them. Mother, however, was always willing to play.

I spent my afternoon on a bench in a dark corridor. It was a gloomy place, but it was the only room in which I did not see her ghost. My mother and I had never been in this corridor at the same time, and never would be; no memories could haunt me here.

Of course, after this afternoon, there may be a completely different sort of ghost lurking in that corridor.

Shortly after midday, my cousin emerged from one of the doors along the side of the hallway. As Geneva caught sight of me, Geneva's violet eyes came alight--apparently last time impressed her. "Hello, Dalston," she greeted me with a flirty grin.

Not sure what else I could do, I returned it. "Hello, Geneva."

I think most girls would have responded by either going on their way or asking if I wanted company, but she took my greeting as an invitation to plant herself on my lap. Geneva is definitely of her own variety, to say the least. "I'm bored," she told me. "Let's do something."

Knowing her, I didn't really need to wonder what she meant by 'something', but I needed some cheering up too, so I figured I might as well play along. "What do you have in mind?"

Her lashes fluttered, a seductive smile curling on her lips. "I don't know. Why don't we start with... this?"

"Oh!" I moaned as she planted a string of fevered kisses on my neck. "That one's going to leave a mark!"

"It's all right; I'll let you leave a mark on me in exchange," she offered between nuzzles.

That sounded fine. "Fair enough."

She pried herself from my shoulder and bent herself back into a lying position, pulling me along on top of her. "Wherever you want to put your mark," she whispered as my lips approached hers, "wherever you choose..."

She actually let me 'choose' a lot of different places. It's a good thing our fathers were up in the study all day, really.

March 11, 1146

Hi all. This post is NSFW. Just thought I'd let you know.

The Duke of Luperia and his sons arrived last night. I was already in bed by the time they got here, unfortunately, so I haven't had as much as them as I should have liked. Today, however, seemed to be off to a promising start.

...all right, a really promising start.

While I do still think that my cousin Dalston is my favorite boy in the world, there is something about Severin that makes me positively melt. Well, maybe not melt, exactly... but he definitely makes me want to snap my legs around his waist and let him pound me against a wall. Something tells me he'd be good--very, very good.

Unfortunately, I don't know that firsthand--yet.

Anyway, after breakfast, we snuck away to the room where Rudolphus is staying. For the most part, we just concentrated on the art of tongue-sucking, but things got a little more interesting than that. At one point, I let him kiss my breasts; in exchange, he let me stick my hand down his pants. That was good fun. I'd go into more detail, but that's not exactly my style. What can I say? I'm a woman of senses, not a woman of words. "Fun" will have to suffice.

Of course, it could have been much more fun if I'd kept my stupid mouth shut. Oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself...

So it got to the point where I took my dress off and started straddling him. Unfortunately, he was still clothed, so we still had a little ways to go... but he seemed to be enjoying himself at the time. I'm not sure he's ever gotten that far with anyone before, since he's only thirteen. On the other hand, I'm also thirteen... but I'm fourteen in a month, so I've had a little more time. He'll catch up, I'm sure... maybe.

At the very least, he would always touch me where I liked to be touch--whether by knowledge or sheer luck, I'm not exactly sure. Whatever the case, I can't complain about that.

"So," I remember breathing between heated kisses, "do you want to... go a little further?"

He smiled as only a man who can't believe his own luck can do so. "Seriously? You'll let me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Good lord," he sighed contentedly as he lowered me to the mattress, untying his belt with his free hand. "You really are something else, you know? Damn, where would men be if not for women like you?"

"You'd certainly be bored, that's for sure," I answered with a giggle, "just like I'm going to be whenever they set the date for my marriage to Roderick."

It had seemed like a harmless comment to me; however, at the sound of my betrothed's name, Severin dropped me abruptly. Before I could fully register what was happening, he refastened his belt and slid off the bed.

"You're marrying Roderick?" he demanded of me, his back toward me.

I shrugged. "I thought you knew that already. But why does it matter?"

"Why does it matter?" repeated Severin, a seething crescendo of anger swelling in his voice as he made his way around the bed and stopped at the side of my feet. "Why does it matter? Get up, and I'll tell you why it matters!"

Not wanting to argue with him when he was already so upset, I did as I was told. The way I saw it, the sooner I complied, the sooner I could get back into his good graces, and then, maybe we could pick up where we left off. Not too unreasonable of a hope, correct?

"Look, I get that you're not married to him yet, but Roderick is my cousin," he stressed, scowling all the while. I wish he wouldn't scowl; it's such a waste of a good pair of lips that could be put to much better use by smiling, or perhaps kissing. "I don't want to be the man who fucked his cousin's betrothed, Geneva--and you can't seriously want to be the woman who fucked her betrothed's cousin, do you?"

I'm normally quite fine with people saying what they think, but that was a little too bold, even for my tastes--as a future princess, I think I have the right to tell off a son of a mere duke.

"Well, it isn't as if Roderick doesn't do the same thing every once in a while!" I snapped bitterly. "Come on, Severin--it's just because I'm a woman, isn't it? Men can enjoy themselves, but women? God forbid!"

"I don't care that you're a woman!" Severin argued. "If I caught Roderick doing anything like this with some girl other than you, I'd berate him for it too. It's practically adultery, you know."

"But we're not married yet!"

"Well, you'd better get used to it," he growled as he stormed toward the door. "I'll see you at supper--and don't think anything like this is ever going to happen again."

Eh. He'll get over it.

I settled myself on the bed once again and waited. He was a young man--it wasn't as if he wouldn't return at some point. Until then, I figured I would just wait; I didn't really want to admit that it had been a morning wasted.

I waited... and waited... and waited...

Finally, the door opened--but it wasn't Severin.

"Oh, Lord have mercy!" exclaimed his older brother. "You sure know how to make your guests feel at home here in Bandera!"

Well, what do you know? It wasn't a morning wasted after all.

December 16, 1145

Today was my tenth birthday.

It was all right, I suppose. Cook made a wonderful cake, and Father gave me a new horse--her name is Snowfall. Neither of my two oldest sisters came home to visit, but I suppose that's understandable now that they're both married with babies. Besides, they both sent letters, so I can't complain.

My two sisters who still live at home stopped by my room for an hour or so before they went to bed. We just chatted and gossiped, mainly about Meraleene's new baby and Renata's upcoming wedding to Arkon. A date has been chosen--the first of October of next year. It seems odd to think that Renata will be leaving home so soon, and Laralita too probably won't be here in Valcria for too much longer. And then of course, Cladelia and Meraleene are already mothers...

Oh well. The four of us got to keep everything Cladelia left behind when she married Haldred, and the remaining three then got whatever was left of Meraleene's things. I expect to accumulate even more from Renata and Laralita.

Renata, Laralita, if you're reading this, just ignore the scratches. They're just harmless spelling errors.

Anyway, I'm not exactly sure what time they left, but I wasn't feeling particularly tired, so I figured it couldn't have been very late. Besides, I knew they weren't going straight to bed--Laralita has an intensive, nearly religious nighttime regime of various obsessive rituals, and Renata always likes to get a few hours of reading in before putting out her candles. I understand--we're all creatures of habit, are we not?

Still, it would have been nice if they had stayed, seeing as it is my birthday and won't be for much longer. It would have been nice to spent the last lingering hours in the company of someone else. Fortunately, however, it wasn't long before somebody did come--but unfortunately, it was the most unwelcome, obnoxious, presumptuous someone I know.

Of course, how could I have known that when he knocked? I couldn't see through the door--I just assumed he was one of my brothers, coming to bid me goodnight. So it was that I made my mistake. "Come in," I told him.

"Happy birthday, Princess!" he belted as he burst through the door--typical, really, strutting around as though he owns the place. That and the fact that he insists on calling me 'Princess'. I don't even know where the hell that came from, but you know... secretly I kind of like it...

Ignore that last bit. What last bit, you say? Good!

Anyway, I decided to be polite. "Thank you--and don't call me that."

Perhaps I should explain. For as long as I can remember, I have been betrothed to Rudolphus. Every year, he and his family come to our castle for my birthday, and then stay throughout the Advent season until after Twelfth Night. As my ill fate would have it, Severin always spends Christmas with his father and stepmother. Next year, I think I'll try to specifically point this out to his mother and see if she insists that he spends Advent with her instead.

Now, a gentleman would have left after wishing me a happy birthday, but Severin is no gentleman, he proved by promptly making himself comfortable on the bed--not even bothering to take his boots off, I might add. How rude.

"You could have asked if I minded," I snarled.

"Sorry, Princess--you see, you're just looking so pretty there that it slipped my mind entirely."

Seriously... what an idiot.

"Anyway, how does it feel to be all of ten now?" he asked me--just like everyone else today. Truth be told, it was getting rather redundant.

So I just shrugged. "I supposed you would already know, seeing as you yourself were ten once."

"That was a long time ago."

"Three years isn't a long time."

"So you feel as thought it was only yesterday that you were seven?"

It is difficult to argue with arithmetic--when I am duchess, use of arithmetic in arguments shall be banned throughout Luperiashire.

"It does seem like only yesterday that you had no stubble to speak of," I retaliated at last (rather lamely, I felt, but I hope he didn't find it so). "Honestly, as soon as you leave me for the night--which I hope will be as soon as humanly possible--I insist that you go and shave. You look ridiculous."

"Well, if it amuses you, then perhaps I shall simply grow it out even longer," he quipped with a wink.

"You couldn't pull it off," I laughed in spite of myself, cringing at the very thought.

"Would you like to place a wager on that, Princess?"

"I am not your 'Princess'!"

"Well, we shall see about that," he mused aloud, suddenly slinging his arm around my shoulder and shuffling toward me.

I have to admit, there was something about this statement that I found rather suspicious. "What do you mean by that?"

"You see," he chuckled under his breath--in his closeness, I noticed that he must have found my mother's secret stash of honey and cinnamon candies--as he gently drummed his fingers against my arm, "Laralita plans on hanging mistletoe throughout the castle tomorrow, and now that you're a big girl of ten, the rules apply to you as well."

"Are you implying something?" I asked him slyly. I had never before asked a sly question of a boy--I found it oddly satisfying, despite the fact that he is the last boy on the planet I would have ever wanted to ask a sly question of.

His answer was accompanied by a grin. "I am only considering, Alina, that if I manage to land a kiss on you, you may stop being a toad and become a princess--and then, you will have no choice but to admit that you are one."

That was an entirely different kind of sly.

"Who are you to call me a toad?" I demanded. "You are the ugliest, wartiest toad in the whole pond!"

"Then it appears that I must at least have an exceptional personality, seeing as I have the honor of sitting next to the princess."

This was getting rather silly, so I decided to change the subject. "And what if I manage to avoid you--which I most certainly will? How will you know me for a princess then?"

"Though you most certainly will not," he tried to assure me (failing spectacularly, I may note), "I have already taken that into consideration. In fact, I shall know when I see you first thing in the morning, before your sister even has a chance to hang any mistletoe at all."

I sniffed. Cladelia and Laralita both sniff often--they say it makes one seem important and dignified. "And how will you know?"

"Well, I can't exactly tell you right now," mused Severin aloud, "for it might skew the results. However... I am keen to see if you get any sleep. I couldn't find forty-nine spare mattresses, but in the morning, I may find you black and blue all over."

"Forty-nine spare WHAT?"

It was my father.

"Lonriad!" he called over his shoulder. "Lonriad, get in here! And you, boy--you get your filthy hands off my daughter and face me like a man!"

Startled, Severin hastily released me and slipped off the bed, striding quickly toward my father. "Look, it's not what you think--"

"Yet you presume exactly what I am thinking?" my father barked as Severin's father prowled into the room behind him. "That seems rather suspicious, does it not?"

Severin's father sighed. "What is it, Searle?"

"I was just coming around to say goodnight to my daughter, and bid her a happy birthday, and what do I find?" my own papa snarled. "Your bastard cuddling up to my little girl, saying something about forty-nine spare mattresses!"

"It was just a joke!" protested Severin indignantly. "And not even that kind of joke! It was a fairytale joke!"

Rolling his eyes, Lonriad quickly shut the door behind him, then stepped around my father and stared down at his son. "All right, let's get straight to the bottom of this. Severin, did you touch Alina in any place you wouldn't touch her in anyone else's presence?"

"No," he grumbled in reply.

"Did you see any part of her that would ordinarily be covered--or she of you?"

Severin shook his head. "No."

"Did you imply that one or both of you might take your clothes off?"

"No."

"Alina," my future father-in-law addressed me suddenly, his clear blue eyes locking with mine, "is Severin lying?"

"No," I answered with a shrug.

"Then it's settled!" declared Lonriad with a smile, turning his head to face my father. "Nothing to worry about, Searle--just the paranoia of a protective father."

My father scowled. "Seeing as you yourself have no daughters and I have five, I can forgive you for treating the situation so lightly--but kindly keep a closer eye on your son in the future."

"If you insist," he agreed, shifting his gaze back to me. "Goodnight, Alina, and happy birthday."

"Thank you, your grace," I replied politely.

Sending me one last grin, Lonriad lightly cuffed Severin across the back of the head. "Come along, Brat--time for bed."

Repulsed, Severin shoved his father's arm aside--to Lonriad's shock, it seemed--and proceed to storm off, through the door and into the corridor. "Goodnight, Alina," he muttered, speaking so softly that I could barely hear him.

"Same to you," I bade him.

Lonriad sighed, then left after his son, heading in the direction of the guest chambers.

Finally, he was gone. What a disagreeable conversation that had been. Surely, it is the will of God that Severin be sent off somewhere to become a priest, as no woman deserves to be subject to that sort of banter every night before drifting off to sleep. There is little doubt in my mind that he would make the absolute worst husband in the history of marriage.

Anyway, my father ended up giving me some sort of lecture, but I scarcely listened and don't really remember much of it--it's my birthday, and it's my right to ignore whichever details I choose.

September 30, 1145

This morning, we arrived at the castle for the harvest festival, my parents and I, as everyone always does--my brothers, however, are not here. Primus is at home with his wife and baby, Secundus and Tertius are out hunting and won't be here for a few more days, and the others are at the monastery... where I soon will join them.

I know it was only April, but it seems so long ago that I was last in the ballroom at Dovia Castle, dancing with everyone else. In some ways, I'm not even sure I'm the same person. Back then, I was a boy--now, I suppose I'm a man.

I'm an uncle now. My niece's name is Holladrin, for the princess, and she was born on the thirteenth. She's the perfect blend of Primus and Meraleene, and she's got these big blue eyes that just have a way of calming you, and would you believe she likes me best of anyone? She'll cry when most other people hold her--even her parents on occasion--but not for me. Or my mother, I suppose... but babies never cry for grandmothers, so that's not too remarkable. The important thing is that she cries for all of her other uncles and aunts, but not for me.

I suppose she and her siblings--and Secundus's kids and Tertius's kids, since it's only fourth sons and beyond who get sent off to monasteries--will be the closest I ever have to my own children. It's a sad thought, really; I'd like to think I would've made a good father.

But no... nobody wants their daughter to marry a lowly eighth son. In the end, I can't really blame my father for his plans for me.

Anyway, as my parents had been conversing with the king and queen and the other adults, I had stolen away to the empty ballroom, just casually reclining on a bench, trying to get away from all the noise, as I was somewhat tired from the journey. Of course, knowing my luck, it wasn't long before I was interrupted--but I suppose it wasn't too disagreeable of an interruption.

No, it was just young Princess Holladrin, my niece's namesake. I think she's about seven now--still young enough to be mildly annoying, but old enough to at least be conscious of that fact and keep herself in check. She is a sweet girl, really, much more agreeable than her older brothers... but in all honesty, I had hoped for a conversation with her father's ward, Celina, instead.

But really, I guess it doesn't matter, seeing as Farilon would never want humble old me for Celina anyway. She can do much better.

And it isn't as if I didn't enjoy talking to Holladrin--she's not bad, for a kid.

"...and so that's why I'm here," I remember her telling me. "Medea's looking for me, and even though she's my cousin and I realize it's terribly rude to ignore her, all she can ever talk about is who would make the best match for who, and that's boring. Besides, a lot of people are already betrothed anyway, so it's pointless to talk about."

I nodded. "I see what you mean. Is Medea herself betrothed yet, or no?"

"No," Holladrin replied with a shrug. "I think she's hoping to marry Oswald, since he'll be king one day. She probably wouldn't mind marrying Roderick, but he's already betrothed to Geneva, so she can't."

"So why did your father find a wife for Roderick before finding one for Oswald?" I asked her.

She frowned. "I don't know. But let's not talk about marriages--you sound just like Medea."

I really hope I didn't.

"There you are!"

Medea, it seemed, had managed to trail Holladrin--much to both of our chagrin. Now, I know it's unbecoming of a man to be afraid of a woman... but really, I'm not sure Medea can be considered a woman. She's a nightmare! Good Lord, almost anyone whose ever had to spend five minutes with her would agree that--

You know, that was rude of me. I'll just cross that out. Sorry about that. Anyway...

"Oh, sorry, Medea," apologized Holladrin hastily as her older cousin stared her down. "You see, I noticed that Lord and Lady Felonis were here, so I figured Octavius was, and I had to greet him--he's a guest, you know."

Really, what a nice kid--even her lies are charming. Her parents must be so proud of her.

Medea rolled her eyes, I distinctly recall. "Holladrin, for God's sake--you're a princess. You don't have to waste your time greeting lowly sons of lords, you realize."

She might not have noticed I was in the room, it occurs to me now. Oh well.

"But I wanted to!" Holladrin insisted.

"I'm sure," sighed Medea. "Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that the Duke of Luperia has arrived, and he has a present for you."

"Uncle Lonriad has a present for me?" she exclaimed, her eyes wide. "I have to go--see you later, Octavius!"

"Goodbye, your majesty," I laughed as she ran off--you're only young once, you know.

Unfortunately, Holladrin's departure left me alone with Medea. Immediately, I stood--it's rude to sit in the presence of a lady if she is standing. She, of course, barely looked at me... so stupidly, I tried to begin a conversation.

"So, how have you--?"

"Don't talk to me, you worthless piece of slime!" she immediately spat--right in my face, I might add. "What are you, even? Eighth son of Lord Felonis, correct? And you dare address the daughter of a princess and niece of a king so casually? The nerve!"

"But I just thought it would be polite--"

"Well, you thought wrong! The polite thing to do, swine, would be to get out of my sight this instant!"

You know, in hindsight... I can't say I wanted to do otherwise. Seriously, what an unpleasant girl. I certainly pity whatever poor unfortunate she ends up marrying.

July 2, 1145

It's been a dreadful week for Aunt Learianna in terms of her illness. She's been in bed for four solid days, coughing constantly. She's fainted several times--fortunately, in most of those instances, she was lying down already.

Uncle Farilon has sent my cousins away. He doesn't want them to see their mother in her deteriorating condition. Roderick and Holladrin have gone to stay with their Uncle Lonriad in Luperia. Oswald was more difficult to chase out of the castle, since he's old enough to come and go as he pleases now, but Uncle wouldn't take no for an answer. I don't know where he is, but it's not here.

Uncle didn't bother sending me away, though. He probably forgot I was even here.

...did I really just write that? How horribly selfish of me! For all he knew, his wife was dying, and... oh dear. I'm just going to cross that out now...

Fortunately, Auntie is coming around. The coughing has mostly ceased. She's still in bed, but she's awake, just talking with Uncle, and eating the soup he had brought up for her. It looks as though she'll recover; I imagine Uncle will be sending word to my cousins soon.

It will be nice to have everything back to normal around here--Auntie up and about, and my cousins back home. It's been awfully somber around here, and now that everything is going to be fine, I'm excited for things to return to the way they normally are.

Regardless, I do hope my cousins had a good few days, or as good as they could have been with all the worry over their mother's health. I know Roderick likes nothing better than a good afternoon of hunting with Rudolphus. Poor Holladrin has probably been rather bored, though, unless Severin has taken pity on her occasionally and played with her... although then again, perhaps her Aunt Viridis is spoiling her rotten and showering her with attention, since she never had a daughter of her own, and probably never will.

It's an odd thought, really. The generation before mine, I'm sure, is nearly done with their baby-making and parenting. Unfortunately, it is unlikely that they even have much longer to live. My own parents are dead, as is my mother's sister, and one of my father's brothers. Both of my father's brothers' wives are also gone. The Countess of Bandera, the Baroness of Rexus, Lady Beretrin... we have already lost so many.

I know what it is to be an orphan, but I suppose in some horrible sense, I am fortunate to have been so young when I lost my parents; I do not remember the initial pain of learning of their deaths. My heart aches for souls like Dalston and Arkon, whose mother was suddenly taken away from them after over a decade of knowing and loving her.

But why does it have to be this way? Surely our parents want nothing more than to see their grandchildren; why must that chance be taken from them? In less than a week, I will be thirteen, which is more than old enough to realize that life is unfair... but why must it be unfair? I suppose I'll never truly understand.

Oh well. For now, Auntie is well--at the present time, nothing else matters.

April 26, 1145

I recieved some horrible news today--simply horrible. Of course, the worst part was not that this news grieved me in ways I had never before experienced--which, of course, it did--but the disgusting chain of events which led to it being delivered to me. There is a proper way to pass such news to a prince, I tell you, and tonight, that way was most thoroughly discarded by all involved. Now, as a result of this, I am not only most severely disheartened, but also most outraged, embarrassed, and insulted.

Allow me to explain. Tonight, my father threw a party. Why? Because he's the king! Everyone knows that a king can do whatever he pleases; therefore, a king does not need an occasion to throw a party. Really, I should have been enjoying myself, because this is my favorite kind of party--the kind that we throw just because we can.

But I wasn't. For some reason or another, my father, brother, and the other so-called "grown men" had decided to embark on a quick hunt before nightfall, while my mother and the ladies retired to the sitting room to sew some tapestries or whatever it is ladies do when not in the company of men. At fifteen, I have every right to accompany the men on the hunt and normally, my father does not fail to acknowledge that--except for tonight. Tonight, I was stuck in the ballroom with all the children. That's right--I, a prince, was made a nanny. A nanny!

For the first time in my life, I found myself envious of my little sister. Holladrin is only six years old, so she did not feel shunned when mother did not invite her up to the sitting room with the ladies--she has not yet had that experience, so she does not know what she is missing. If anything, she was delighted to sit and talk with the other youngsters: our cousin Cambrin, little Eldona of Tagrien, and Alina of Valcria.

Cambrin is seven and Eldona is five, so they too were content to just sit on the benches and talk about snot and feces and whatever other disgusting things children like to discuss. Alina, however, is nine. She's grown like a weed lately--in fact, the dress she wore tonight was much too short for her, which is utterly scandalous of a count's daughter. I imagine she's at the age where she would rather dance with the older children than sit back and play and giggle with the younger ones, but her father had explicitly banned her from dancing with anyone other than her betrothed, my cousin Rudolphus. Really, I don't see why she bothered obeying him, seeing as her sisters certainly didn't, but that isn't exactly my problem, so I don't care.

However, she could not dance with him because he was dancing with another girl, Geneva of Bandera, which is interesting because just after dinner, I'm fairly certain I saw her kissing Rudolphus's own brother. Oh well, I didn't suppose it was any of my business at the time. Geneva is all right--for a girl--but she's oddly bold and physical for a lady of her rank. In some ways, she'd almost make a better man than woman, but I suppose I'll have to put aside all such thoughts from now onward; at least she is rather pretty.

It's a shame that Rudolphus's brother is only my uncle's bastard, really; otherwise, I'm sure that he and Geneva might have been happy together. For reasons unbeknownst--and unfathomable--to me, Severin has recently decided that he is quite the ladies' man. He's twelve, by the way, which is ridiculous. When I was twelve, I thought that girls had the plague. Oh well, maybe he's just growing more quickly--hell, the little scamp already has more stubble than I do! It's horribly embarrassing.

Anyway, despite his little lip-lock with Geneva earlier, he ended up dancing the night away with Alina's sister Laralita. In my personal opinion, she is much too good for him... although, after that little stunt he pulled tonight, he might have to marry her anyway. I still can't believe he did that--and in front of her intended too!

But fortunately for Severin, Karlspan didn't seem to mind much at all tonight--and I don't blame him, seeing as he got to dance with the most beautiful girl in the room.

Renata of Valcria, the sister just before Laralita.

My God, she is exquisite! Her pale hair, her startling turquoise eyes, her perfect hips... what an angel! I have an especially partial fondness for her luscious lips--Good Lord, if it wasn't a most unprincely thing to do, I would have her run those lips over my entire body.

And too think, whenever Karlspan looked away, she would glance at me and smile, her hand outstretched toward me longingly! Yes, I am aware that that is one of the steps in the dance they were doing... but I can dream, can't I? Dammit, I'm a prince! Soon, my darling Renata... soon.

Of course, she wasn't the only girl reaching out for me tonight.

My cousin Medea was dancing right in front of me. She couldn't keep her eyes off of me--every chance she got, she would send me a grin. Her partner was Vulcran of Valcria, the brother between Renata and Laralita, a scrawny twelve-year-old who can't dance worth a single grain of wheat. I'm willing to bet that she made this poor selection of a partner on purpose; next to him, she would look to be the epitome of grace, and therefore she would impress me.

I'm sure she wants to marry me. And, really... why not? I am a prince. Well, I think she'd rather my brother than me, since he will be king one day, whereas I will not be... unless he dies without an heir, of course. Oh, but it is most unprincely to think such things, and very much unchristian to wish one's own brother dead! Not that I do, of course... I'm only saying!

Anyway, I remember being somewhat frustrated because Geneva, who is Medea's friend, seemed to be intent on obscuring my view of Renata whenever possible, probably to give her friend the advantage of my gaze. It didn't really work all that well, but given the present circumstances, I might as well just let them both think it did.

I am trying to recall who else was there--a poor memory never did serve a prince, did it? No... ah! How could I have forgotten? Maybe I had a little too much wine tonight...

Of course, I do remember the ladies who weren't flaunting themselves in my face as well. I am a prince, after all; it is in my blood to take note of those who do not openly seek attention. Most specifically, I am thinking of my darling cousin, Celina. She is a shy girl, but she seemed to enjoy herself tonight, or at least more than she often does. She wore her hair in a most charming style tonight, one that suited her perfectly--really, she should wear it like that more often. Perhaps she will if she gains some confidence.

She danced the night away with Octavius, the eighth son of Lord Felonis. He is a decent fellow, if not somewhat soft. I daresay he is quite smitten with her--it is unfortunate that he, as a lowly eighth son, will probably end up a priest.

Not to mention, of course, that Celina fancies this other boy. His name is Dalston, and a lot of the girls like him. Poor bloke ended up dancing with Geneva's sister Eudocia--quite easily the ugliest girl in attendance, if not the most unsightly creature ever born to the Dovian nobility. Before every dance, we boys draw straws. The loser has to dance with Eudocia, and this time, it was Dalston.

Really, I suppose I should feel bad for her, but then I look at her face and realize that of the two of us, I am the one who has to look at it, so I feel bad for myself instead and as a prince, I do manage to silently sympathize.

Anyway, my silly little cousin has never said more than two words to Dalston in her life. I daresay the poor girl imagines herself unworthy of him. Well, she certainly looked worthy of him tonight--she looked worthy of absolutely every and any boy in the room, with possible exception of myself, since I am a prince and very few girls can claim to be even half worthy of me.

Oh, but I've gotten sidetracked! Where was I... oh yes, my horrible news, and the most undignified fashion in which it was delivered to me. Yes, well...

I suppose it all started when young Alina decided that she didn't want to sit with the children any longer. Bold as you please, she tore from that bench and headed to the dance floor, unescorted--add that to her poorly-fitting dress and the fact that she is not yet even ten, and it is utterly scandalous!

And to add to that... she didn't even go to Rudolphus, but his insufferable brother. For her sake, I am thankful that her father was not in the room at the time.

Now, I was seated quite a ways away from them, but they made no effort to keep their voices down, and, as a prince, I have rather excellent hearing, so naturally, every word they said reached my royal ears.

"What do you want, sprout?" demanded Severin as he caught sight of the girl out of the corner of his eye. "Can't you see that I'm a little busy here?"

"You don't look busy," Alina insisted.

Severin chuckled to himself. "Believe what you will, princess, but there are those who know otherwise. In fact, just ask your maid the next time you see her--there's a reason she has to make some of the beds in your castle more than once a day, you know."

Fortunately, neither Alina nor Laralita, at nine and eleven, is worldly enough to understand exactly what he said just yet. Also, I doubt Severin himself is worldly enough to honestly make such a joke--although I suppose I might as well let the boy have his fun while he can, since he'll probably be shipped off to a monastery at some point, forced into the service just like every other duke's bastard before and after him.

Alina's ordinarily wide blue eyes narrowed, her red brows arching as dangerously as those of a nine-year-old girl can--which, admittedly, is not particularly dangerously. "Don't call me that, you stupid boy!"

"What? Princess?" laughed Severin, causing her to rock indignantly back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Why not? Doesn't every girl want to be a princess?"

"No girl wants to be your princess."

"Oh, that's cold!" he moaned in mock rejection, turning away from her sister and looking her in the eye. "But seriously, little lady--what can I do you for? Does my princess require this humble knight to slay dragons or venture to far-off lands in search of the Grail?"

"You can venture to far-off lands and stay there!" spat Alina bitterly--Good Lord, that girl sure knows how to throw a tantrum. Although... she might have had the right to, but I'm not entirely sure. On one hand, Severin's father is a duke while hers is only a count, but on the other, his mother is a gypsy, so I'm not entirely sure which of the two of them outranks the other. I suppose I shall have to consult my books before I retire for the evening.

"Fair enough, but is there anything you wish of me before I go?"

Alina sighed. "A... dance?"

For a second, Severin only stared at her--I can only imagine his face at the time, surprised and rather disgusted at the thought of having to entertain this mere child. "What, with you? Stupid kid--why would I want to dance with you?"

"No, not with you, you dunderhead!" she argued quickly. "Even if I was allowed to dance with you, I wouldn't ever! I want to dance with Rudolphus."

Severin shrugged. "Then what are you talking to me for, squirt? Go ask him."

"No. I want you to tell him to dance with me."

Another few stunned seconds elapsed on account of my most incoherent cousin before he finally replied. "You've got to be kidding me. I am not telling him to dance with you--I'm his brother, not his father. Half-brother, actually... why should he listen to me? Besides, he's fifteen, and a lot bigger than me."

Alina wasn't swayed. "You're a lot bigger than me."

"He wouldn't fight you, princess; you're a little girl."

"Coward!"

"I prefer the term 'self-preservationist', princess."

"I am not your princess!"

Behind them, Laralita groaned in frustration. "Just humor her, Severin--she won't leave us alone unless you do as she asks."

Severin rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Fine!"

He turned away from Alina and back toward Laralita, leaning more than respectably inward in order to whisper into her ear.

"Wait here for me," he told her. "I won't be long."

Laralita giggled. "Oh, but how will I know you will return?"

"Just trust me."

More giggling--girls really do that too often. "Can I?"

"I shall give you a token of good faith."

She raised one blond eyebrow. "Oh? And what sort of token will this be?"

He didn't answer with his tongue.

Well, actually, maybe he did. I didn't get too close a look. Regardless, the poor girl's reputation will probably be in shambles by tomorrow morning.

"Ew," muttered Alina--I have to agree.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, fair maiden," he announced as he released her from the grasp of his lips, "I have a quest to fulfill."

And so the not-so-gallant knight set off, riding onward to the lair of the evil Lord Rudolph of Us, situated in the center of the faraway land of Ballerume, unknowing of whatever fate was to befall him...

Ignore that last bit. Like I said, I've had too much wine.

Anyway, Severin made his way over to the middle of the room, where Rudolphus was dancing with Geneva--and by dancing, obviously I mean ogling her breasts, which I will most definitely make sure he does not do again. After straining for a quick peek himself, Severin took a deep breath and called out, "Rudolphus!"

Annoyed, Rudolphus looked up and sent a cool stare his brother's way. "What do you want, brat?"

He didn't even really give him any time to reply before his eyes fell once more to Geneva's budding bosom. Unimpressed, Severin's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Oh for God's sake, Rudolphus, can you stop looking at her tits for five seconds?"

Rudolphus went red; Geneva, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind. She is not exactly an ideal of modesty--I shall have to correct that at some point.

After a brief period of scowling and twitching, Rudolphus seemed to regain his cool. "All right, kid. Seriously, what do you want?"

"Look, your betrothed would like a dance," Severin testily informed him, "and I would like to get her off my back, so I'd very much appreciate it if you could maybe indulge her for a song or two."

His older brother snorted. "Why should I be obliged to dance with her? She's a baby; tell her to come and ask me herself once she's actually grown into her dress."

My younger cousin's brows arched venomously. "I think she's perfectly aware of the fact that her dress isn't exactly fitting right, so I wouldn't be making jokes about it if I were you."

"I wasn't making a joke," snickered Rudolphus, "and I wasn't talking about her height."

Severin seemed unamused. "You sick bastard."

"Who are you to call me a bastard, you little half-breed?" Rudolphus demanded. "God, what an obnoxious little fuck you are! Go dance with her yourself."

"I offered, but she says her father will only let her dance with you."

"Well, by that reckoning, Laralita should be dancing with Karlspan, and Renata should be dancing with Arkon, who isn't even here! Look, given the kid's age, I've still got a good few years before I actually have to marry her, so until then, I give you full permission to do whatever the hell you want with your little sweetheart, so long as you keep your pants on--whatever keeps the both of you from being a bother. Understand?"

Severin's clenched to fists; I must admit, I half-expected them to start brawling. "I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that. Now, I think that since she's only allowed to dance with you, you should only be allowed to dance with her. It's only fair."

"A pity that Father isn't here to enforce such rules," sneered Rudolphus, tossing back his head. "And don't think I'm going to listen to what you have to say about any of this."

"Maybe you would if I told you I knew who was riding Father's favorite stallion when it went lame!"

Rudolphus froze. Then--

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about!" Severin snarled. "Now, either you go and dance with Alina, or you go and sit your ass down on a bench somewhere. You hear?"

Rudolphus made a slight growling sound. "Fine! I'm feeling a little tired anyway--maybe I'll go sit down for a while. Geneva... come with?"

"No thanks," she yawned. "I still want to dance, so I suppose I'll just have to find a new partner... Severin?"

"I promised Laralita I'd be back," he muttered apologetically before turning on his heel and striding back to his partner and her sister.

After glowering after his brother few a moment, Rudolphus sighed and proceeded toward the benches in the far corner of the room, leaving Geneva of Bandera alone in the middle of the dance floor.

She didn't seem to mind all that much, actually. In fact, it wasn't more than a minute before she herself was on the move... right toward me.

"Hello, Roderick," she greeted me, presuming to address me by my given name as opposed to 'majesty', 'highness', or even 'Prince Roderick'.

I decided to let it slide. "My lady."

"Would you like a dance?" Geneva asked me with a wink.

I yawned. "No, thank you. I am a prince; I do not prance and wave my arms about like a fool."

"Oh, come on!" she giggled, pointing frantically between myself and her. "You can't plan on avoiding me for all of the next few years, you know--it's horribly rude."

I felt my brow furrow as I pursed my lips in confusion. "Why would I want to avoid you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know--same reason Rudolphus avoids Alina, I suppose. He knows he'll be stuck with her, so he might as well spend as much of his time free of her as he possibly can."

This wasn't helping much. "I'm not following..."

Much to my surprise--and really, it seemed something of an insult--she laughed. "Oh, you mean your father hasn't told you? They finalized the arrangement today; when we're older, you're going to be my husband."

Case and point. Horrible news, uncouth means of delivery. How could this have happened to me--a prince?

Welcome to the Dovia Diaries!

A fond hello to all who may be reading this! Welcome to the Dovia Diaries!

Some of you may be familiar with my story, The Kingdom of Naroni. In celebration of the hundredth post, I have made this blog. This is a sort of companion blog to Naroni, to be updated at my leisure, probably when I'm stuck for ideas for all my other stories, confronted with an unappealing chapter to write, or just in the mood for some light-hearted banter.

The Dovia Diaries are a collection of events taking place in Dovia before the establishment of Naroni in 1155, beginning in the year 1145, one decade prior. These posts will center around the younger days of the founding Naroni nobles--their past relationships, their families, their hopes for the future. Given this, a seasoned Naroni reader will probably take note of much dramatic irony, but I do hope that this blog will also be enjoyable for those who are not reading Naroni as well.

That being said, enjoy!

~Proceed to April 26, 1145~