- "Our story begins 400 years ago, when our two kingdoms came to be," the frail old woman begins, settling in the rocking chair as her grandchildren gather eagerly. The youngest, a beautiful little girl with hair like spun gold and eyes as blue as the winter sky, scooches closer with a toothy grin.
"Are you gonna tell us the story of the lost Princess, Grandmama?" The child asked excitedly. The old woman nods, a small smile gracing her lips. Before she can continue, a small boy with hair as black as night and eyes as green as a jungle canopy piped up.
"We've heard this story a million times! I want to hear about the current royal families," he protested impatiently. His grandmother smiled indulgently.
"But Mon Petit, we would not have our current royal families if not for the events that happened all those centuries ago. You see, every choice made in history led up to the rise of our current kings and queens," she explained. The young boy's eyes stretched wide in awe.
"Really?"
"Yes. Now, why don't you settle in with your sister and I will tell you the story of how our Kingdoms came to be..."
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A long, long time ago in the time before our kingdoms rose to power, there lived two small villages. To the South, there was Caleth, a small fishing village led by a strong and noble chief by the name of Alban. Chief Alban was a tough man, but he was kind and gentle nonetheless and he loved his wife, Elisabeth, more than anything else. Meanwhile, to the North, there lived a beautiful and picturesque town known as Aléira. Though small, the town of Aléira were renowned for their fashion prowess and were therefore a very wealthy town. The mayor, Andre, was a cold and calculating man who always had to have the best of everything. The best house, the best land, the best wife, and the best child. Chief Alban and Mayor Andre had never gotten along, despite the proximity of their two towns. They were simply too different. Their children were a different story, however. Around the same time, their wives gave birth. Chief Alban was graced with a beautiful daughter. A child who was grace and serenity and beauty personified. They named her Fiona, and she would soon become known as the Princess of Caleth... Despite not being actual royalty. The Mayor, in turn, was given a strong son. Handsome, charming, and intelligent... He was certainly all his father could have hoped for. His father named him Arthur. Little Fiona was raised in a warm, loving home. She was doted upon by her parents and the townsfolk from the time she was a wee babe. Young Arthur, however, was raised in a loveless home where anything less than perfection was considered unacceptable.
As a young boy, Arthur watched his moth slowly wither away until her depression became too powerful. The child was devastated and might have turned out just like his father in his grief... if not for one shining beacon of light. Fiona. The two met from a young age, and despite the adversity between their fathers they became fast friends. Often Fiona or Arthur would steal away from their hones and meet in the woods between their villages where they would spend hours playing games, talking, and swimming in the creek. As they grew older, friendship turned to love and on the eve of her sixteenth birthday, Arthur begged his father to permit him to marry Fiona. His father was horrified at the very notion and refused, but Arthur was not deterred. He instead went to Chief Alban and begged for his blessing... but again he was refused. Chief Alban had already decided on a suitable mate for his daughter. Arthur was devastated, but he wouldn't give up. He loved Fiona, and she loved him. So he begged her to run away with him; to leave their home and find a place where they could be happy and in love together. Fiona agreed.
In the aftermath of their departure, accusations were tossed carelessly and in a fit of rage, Chief Alban killed Mayor Andre, claiming that the people of Alèira had stolen his precious Fiona away from him. The death of the mayor would spark a war that would last through the ages... and that brings us to today. Four hundred years after the battle begun.
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Since then, the little towns of Caleth and Aléira have grown and prospered into beautiful kingdons. The war ravaged the land but thankfully, our beloved Kings' Alexandre and Angus are much wiser than their predessors. It was agreed upon that when the youngest of the royal children reached their 23rd birthdays, the royal children would all be we'd and the Kingdoms would finally be united once again. A treaty was put in place, one that ended the conflict between the two kingdoms temporarily... at least until the heirs were fully grown and ready to make good on the promise made for them upon their birth. It was agreed that should any of the children refuse to marry, the treaty would be forfeit. No pressure there, right?
