King of Tamer

Chapter One - Jacen Charis

Thirty years had passed since the war with Hronus. Jacen Charis, son of Jupiter Charis and Beryl Poldark had grown up hearing stories of his father's courage to raise an army and oppose the tyrant Hronus. And Jacen, now almost 20 years old, couldn't help but wonder if he will ever be able to step out of the grand shadow of his father. Technically, Jacen shouldn't have been next in line for the throne, as he had a sister older by two years, but when Lydya was nineteen she resigned her position as heiress, thus making Jacen heir to the tamerian throne. Lydya was a rather peculiar maiden, as she preferred riding Valley, her mare, through the woods, sometimes accompanied by Jacen or one other friend of hers rather than spending time in Elda, the capital city of Tamer. Jacen was different. He listened to his parents. He had led a couple successful missions in the northern Tamer, where some rebel supporters of Hronus' have gone into hiding. He was the 'golden boy' of his kingdom. And ever since Perseus Tide, his best friend disappeared about two years ago, he had done his hardest to be the absolute best. But, in the few hours he got to himself every now and then, he still couldn't get his friend out of his mind. A year and a half after his disappearance, Perseus was considered dead to the kingdom, but, deep inside, Jacen could feel that his friend was still alive, somewhere.
Each morning found Jacen praying for the safety and return of his friend.
One morning in particular was going to stay embedded in Jacen's memory for his whole life. It just so happened to be one week before his twentieth birthday. Jacen knew that when he reached twenty years, he would be eligible for the throne of Tamer. So he couldn't say he was surprised when he was summoned to his father's apartment, to share breakfast with his parents. As he was expecting, Jupiter and Beryl were waiting to meet him.
"Son," Jupiter started, "in a week's time starting today, you are to turn twenty years of age. Your mother and I came to the decision that it would be in the best interest, both for you and the kingdom, that you are to succeed me to the throne, starting with your birthday."
Jacen couldn't say that it came as a surprise. The topic of his coming of age and thus of his ascent to the throne had arisen quite a few times in the last three years. Still...
"Of course, father, I will be more than honoured to receive the crown in a week," he answered. It was, after all, what was expected from him. And, if Jacen did something perfectly, it was to do what was expected of him. Court protocol? Honour code? Hours upon hours of training, both in combat and in politics? He didn't even consider it twice. Jacen did it and was glad to do so.
"I am proud of you, my son." Beryl was watching her baby boy, now a young man ready to take the fate of thousands of people on his shoulders. "We don't say it often enough, your father and I, but we truly are proud of yo-" Beryl's words were cut short by a coughing fit.
In the last few years, his mother's health had slowly, but surely, degenerated. Jacen was starting to fear for her life, as the coughing fits grew longer and more often.
As Beryl covered her mouth with a white handkerchief, Jacen spotted a few crimson droplets staining his mother's hands and the soft linen.
"Mother-" The coughs stopped as soon as they had started.
Before any of them could say a word, the door swung open and in came Lydya, escorted by the captain of the guards, sir Levi Shaard.
"My lord, I am terribly sorry for interrupting your breakfast, but we found princess Lydya trying to sneak into the Great Library Archives."
Jacen knew that the 'again' went without saying. Ever since the royal family had returned from Amaryl, Lydya had been borderlines obsessed with the archives of the kingdom, until their father had to forbid her access to the Archives, less it was with his approval. But Lydya still tried to get inside the Library every other day or so. And she was almost always caught.
Jacen had rarely seen his father angry. And even less often had he seen his sister as infuriated as she was at the moment.
"Captain, leave us." The king's dismissal was curt and sharp. With a low bow, the older man left the chamber.
What followed next was a battle of wills to go down in history: Jupiter's eyes were boring straight into Lydya's, neither showing any sign of weakness, neither backing down, not even for a fraction of a second.
"I had believed," the king began, facing his eldest child, "that I had made myself rather clear. You are to get over this obsession of yours with whatever forgotten legends you believe you are entitled to seek. You are to start spending more time with the nobles of Elda who are around your age. You are to stay away from the Archives, unless you are given clearance by me."
Jacen froze at the glacial tone his father's voice had adopted. It felt just like the static air right before lightning stroke. He felt himself cowering, knees slightly weak, and he wasn't even the one on the receiving end of the lecture. And yet, Lydya didn't back down.
"You are to start your training with Lady Alya again," the king continued, "and you are to present a report on your training directly to me, every week. You are to refrain yourself from bothering any of the scholars and you are to start behaving like a princess, or so help me, Lydya, you will face consequences!" The last few words came out almost as a shout, and the kings face was slightly red as he finished speaking.
Lydya was holding her head high, though, and for the umpteenth time, Jacen wondered just how many such lectures had his sister had to face along the years. Mostly because the two of them were as different as night is from day. Not when it came to appearance, though, as they both had blonde, wavy hair and light-coloured eyes, Lydya's being green and Jacen's blue. But personality-wise, Lydya was bubbly where Jacen might come as bland, she was the scorching summer sun to his shy spring sunshine, she was the fierce wind to his light breeze, the blinding rainstorm to his light shower.
Lydya may have seemed like an air headed young woman, but she was a warrior, a lion's roar, a legend's truth. For as long as anyone could recall, there had been something about Lydya, something no one could quite explain, a certain air around her, as if she was more of the legends and stories she so avidly read, rather than the human she was born to be.
On the other hand, Jacen was a knight through and through, chivalrous and noble, but down to earth, a fact to Lydya's story, an anchor to her floating. He was the bear, fighting to keep everyone safe, the sturdy rock, the strong and visible reality.
At first, everyone wondered what would it have been like if Jacen had been the first-born of the Charis line, instead of Lydya, as he was everything a king should be. Although nobody ever said it out loud, many people were concerned as to what would come to the kingdom with Lydya on the throne. The people loved their princess, that was no lie, mostly because, every now and then, their children would return from their carefree days with wonderful tales, of a beautiful young princess who had helped them forget their squabbles and had told them stories about elves and magic, and how even the trees from the forest seemed to quiet down and listen to the blonde-haired girl with a big imagination and an even bigger heart.
But ruling a kingdom meant more than being able to captivate the hearts of children, and Lydya Charis, while excellent at storytelling, was not an able politician. On the other hand, prince Jacen was born for the throne, at least that was what certain people whispered around certain hearths, rumours of rebellion spreading through the kingdom. But all rumours died down the day princess Lydya came of age. It was one of the few times the people of Tamer saw their princess assuming her birthright: the day she renounced to any and all claims to the throne in favour of her younger brother. That was the moment that the entire kingdom somehow adopted the princess, and every man and woman swore, some even outright at the ceremony, that should anyone try and harm their princess, well the depths of hell would not hide them from the vengeance of the Tamer people. Rebellion died that night and the same oath was taken by all those who supported prince Jacen: there would come no harm to the princess. And that was the day Lydya received the title of "Woodland Lady", in honour of all the hours she spent in the forest, many of which were selflessly given to any children brave enough to go near to her.
However, the day Lydya gave up the throne seemed to be the day the king gave up on his daughter. Words were rarely exchanged between the two, all of the king's energy now directed towards his son and heir. At first, Jacen minded the change in his father's behaviour, but Lydya seemed unaffected by it. Then Perseus Tide, Jacen's best friend, disappeared, leaving his fiancée, Anna Beathas, Lydya's best friend, heartbroken. For a few months, Jacen had gone on a campaign for several months, trying and failing to find his best friend. Nearing the end of the campaign, Jacen had encountered the Wanderers, the people who lived in the Great Dessert. One of them, called Sea-son, who was the second in command at the time managed to offend Jacen, who challenged him to a duel. Long story short, the two later became fast friends, and still kept in touch, even forming an alliance after Sea-son became the leader.
Upon his return, Jacen found his mother sick and the relationship between his father and his sister strained more than ever. Now he was asking himself whether or not he had had a part in this... distance between his father and his sister. But his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the mention of his name.
"... Jacen, for example! He is obedient and disciplined, not even in his worst rebellion does he get down to the level of your best days!" Their father's words seemed to pass right over Lydya's head. Nevertheless, the young man could see her eyes taking a steely look, as if a shield has been raised.
"Jupiter, please!" And just like that, with two words from the queen, the king's lecture ended.
"You are dismissed. Present to lady Alya in two hours' time!"
Without so much as a whisper, the princess left the room in silence.
After the door closed behind Lydya, the king turned to Jacen. "Getting back to our earlier discussion, there is another matter to address. The ancient law dictates that, at the moment of their ascending to the throne, the king or queen must have a spouse, or, at least, be betrothed to somebody. This being said, your mother and I took it upon ourselves to pick a suitable bride for you. As of right now, considered yourself betrothed to princess Penelope Byron of Amaryl!"