Thursday, June 6, 2013

The Shattering of the Rose

This is a random scene I wrote for my retold fairytale Tam Lyn. It takes place years and years before the beginning of the story, and will not appear in it at all, but this is one of the moments that leads to The Shattering of the Rose...i.e. The Creation of Tam Lyn.
And I thought some of you might enjoy reading it, short-scribble piece though it is.
:D If you do, let me know - I have several more I can post if you enjoy it at all. XD 

The Tam that will someday be...
and as usual, credit due thebrilliant Jessica, who is really the reason
for these short story pieces. :D (She sent me a whole set of pictures
changing Tam's eyes brown and putting my character models
together - quite delightfully fun - and got me working on the story just a bit more than usual. XD) 

“Brayden, darling, would you mind helping me?”
Brayden turned from the window, his heart aglow with the sunshine that filled the air outside. “Can you hear the trumpets, Mother?” he asked, resisting the urge to jump up and down. He was not a baby any more, after all.
But his mother gave a little bounce on the chair before her mirror, his own excitement reflected in her eyes. “Yes, and they’re telling us to hurry! So—” She ducked her head done, towards the necklace she was holding to her throat. He nodded quickly and went to her, puzzling over the clasp for only a moment before he had it done.
“Why didn’t you have the servants help you with it?” he asked curiously, looking at her in the mirror, his head cocked to one side. She reached one arm back, slipping it about his neck to draw him close.
“Because only men of the Roxbury line and those they loved have touched that necklace since it was first made. Your great-great-grandfather gave it to his bride on their wedding day, and asked that she wear it as a symbol of her love for him—and she refused even to let the servants polish it. The others have done the same…and I will not be the first to break that tradition.”
She smiled at him, her nose crinkling teasingly. “And if you wed a woman who breaks it…I shall be quite cross with you, after all the trouble I’ve gone to myself.”
She laughed, and he laughed with her. It was a day for laughter, after all, and when she rose to her feet he caught her hands in his own and spun her around.
“I would never marry a lady who would make you cross, Mother-Dear.” He meant it, but the meaning of it made him frown suddenly, and he stopped mid-swing. “I hope there are not many who would?”
His mother was still laughing, though she stood still now, swaying with slight dizziness from their spin. “I’m sure there are not, but whatever is the matter?”
“Well,” he said, trying to sound as Father did, when saying something serious. “It’s already hard enough trying to think who I might marry—I do not wish to marry anyone who is not almost as beautiful as you, and she must be good, too. And fun,” he added, as an afterthought. Fun was important, though. Nan, who brought the eggs to the castle kitchen, was fun; Ellissa, who the dancing master had asked him to dance with last week, was not. Ellissa was far prettier, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Nan would be nearly as pretty, if she but had the clothes for it. Neither could hold a candle to his mother, though, and he looked up at her now.
Almost as beautiful as me?” she asked him, her eyebrows raised, and he nodded.
“I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful as you,” he said honestly, and did not understand why she laughed again.
“Not even the queen was so pretty as you,” he said, in earnest, and she bent and kissed his forehead, though she was still laughing.
“Careful!” she said as she straightened, brushing his blonde hair away from his eyes. “Do not step so close to treason!”
He felt his mouth fall open before he could catch himself, and she laughed again, ruffling his hair all over. “Oh, darling, I was joking! Of course that is not treason.” She gave him a secretive smile. “And if it was, I would not tell on you.”
Then the trumpets sounded again, and all thoughts of treasonous words were driven from his head. “Are you ready?” he cried, and his mother squeezed his hand.

“Never more so!” she cried, and then they were both running hand-in-hand down the long hall, sending servants scuttling out of their way left and right, both of them laughing as if nothing could ever make them stop. Father was coming home today.

2 thoughts shared:

Miss Melody Muffin said...


Isn't it wonderful how a picture can be so inspiring and motivating?

*settles down to read*

Oh WOW!!! I LOVE IT!!!! Only men of the Roxbury line and those they have loved have ever touched the necklace. That. Is. Awesome. And thought provoking. :)

Please do post more!! I'll read them!!

Katherine Sophia said...

XD Yay, I'm glad you liked it!! XD And okay, I will post more. I have a bunch of posts in my head; whether I'll ever get to write them... :P But these at least are already written, so they shouldn't take too much time. :D


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