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MidReal Story
The Goblin King
Scenario:My name is David, son of Paul. I am a Knight in the service of the Kingdom of Aledress, ruled by King Morgan the First. Three years ago, goblins invaded our southern frontier, and my father went to fight them but never returned. Raised in the palace with Princess Amanda, we grew up together and shared a bond of love. Soon, perhaps, we can truly be together; but I at least get to see her face and golden hair every day.
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David Morgan
loyal, and determined. Raised in the palace with Princess Amanda, he harbors deep feelings for her. His father, Paul, disappeared during a goblin invasion three years ago. David's relationship with Amanda is complicated by their differing social status and the impending marriage arranged for her. Despite these challenges, he remains devoted to Amanda and hopes for a future together.
Amanda Morgan
beautiful, and conflicted. Raised alongside David in the palace, she shares a deep bond with him but faces an arranged marriage to Prince Henry of Eldrid. Her feelings for David are strong but complicated by her royal duties and societal expectations. Despite her love for David, she struggles with the consequences of pursuing their relationship openly.
King Morgan
protective, and pragmatic about maintaining peace through strategic alliances like Amanda's arranged marriage to Prince Henry of Eldrid.
My name is David, son of Paul.
I am a Knight in the Kingdom of Aledress, ruled by the great King Morgan the First.
Three years ago, goblins invaded our southern frontier, and my father went to fight them but never came back.
Since I was ten years old, I started training to be a brave warrior like my father.
I have been training for six years now, and I am already a good swordsman.
Soon, I will be a Knight like him.
Perhaps then I can protect my kingdom and my love, the Princess Amanda.
I was raised in the palace with Princess Amanda since I could walk.
She is kind, beautiful, and smart.
We have always shared everything together.
Even though we are from different classes of people, we are very close.
I love her deeply, and I know she loves me too.
Even though I have not told her of my feelings for her yet, I know she feels the same for me.
We will soon tell each other of our feelings for each other.
Then perhaps we can be together.
Even though we are from different classes of people, I am hopeful that we can still be together.
I see her every day, and I get to hold her hand or touch her face sometimes.
Every morning, we walk through the palace gardens.
The dew still clings to the rose petals.
Servants are trimming the hedges in the distance.
The sun is shining brightly on the flowers.
Amanda stops to admire the white lilies, her favorite since she was a little girl.
I take a deep breath and gather my courage.
When she turns around to smile at me, I take her hands in mine.
The words spill out before I can stop them.
"I love you, Amanda. I have loved you for as long as I can remember. I have been waiting for the right time to tell you. I am ready now."
Her blue eyes widen, and her fingers tremble in my grasp.
A servant rounds the corner with gardening shears and sees us holding hands.
Her footsteps on the garden path are light, but Amanda jumps back.
Her hands slip from mine.
I turn to see Martha, Amanda's elderly handmaiden, standing frozen in her path.
The old woman's wrinkled face forms a small 'o' of surprise.
Martha has been with Amanda since she was a baby, and she is very protective of her.
She has always been kind to me, but I can see the shock in her eyes.
I step forward to explain, but Amanda touches my arm gently.
"Martha," she says, her voice steady despite the flush rising to her cheeks, "you've known us since we were children."
The old woman's wrinkled face softens, and she nods slowly.
"I haven't seen anything, my lady," Martha whispers as she hurries past with the basket of fresh linens.
Amanda watches her go, and then she turns to me.
My legs feel weak, so I slump against the garden wall.
She paces between the rose bushes, wringing her hands together.
I can see her glancing nervously at the path where Martha disappeared.
"Martha is trustworthy," she whispers.
"She has been with me since I was a baby. She will not tell anyone."
"I know," I say softly.
"But she saw us holding hands."
Amanda stops pacing and looks at me.
Her eyes are wide and serious.
Her lips are pressed together in a tight line.
She is worried about what Martha saw, but she is also worried about what I said.
I can see it in her eyes, and my heart pounds in my chest.
I want to take her hands again, but I do not know if she will let me.
I am afraid of what she might say next.
"I have loved you too," she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
"But I am afraid."
"Why are you afraid?"
I ask her gently.
She shakes her head and turns back to the flowers.
Her fingers trace the petals of a white lily gently.
The sun shines brightly on her golden hair, and I want to touch it.
I want to hold her again, but I am afraid of what she might say next. "My father wants me to marry Prince Henry," she says softly.
"He is the eldest son of King William. He is kind and handsome. He will make a good king one day."
"I know," I say softly.
"But you deserve someone who loves you for yourself. You deserve someone who loves you more than anything else in the world."
She turns to me slowly, and tears shine in her blue eyes.
"I know," she says softly.
"But my father wants me to marry him. He thinks it will strengthen our kingdom. He thinks it will bring peace between our kingdoms."
"Then what are we going to do?"
I ask her softly.
She shakes her head again, and tears spill down her cheeks.
"I don't know," she whispers as she wipes them away with the back of her hand.
"We have time," I tell her softly as I step closer to her again.
"Prince Henry is still young. We have time to figure out what we are going to do."
A bell rings from inside the palace, and Amanda glances at the sun overhead quickly.
"It's almost time for my lessons," she says softly as she steps back from me again.
"We'll find a way," I promise, as the distance between us feels both vast and fragile.
"I have to go," she says, and then she hurries away.
I watch her go before I turn back to the gardens.
The sun is shining brightly on the flowers, but I do not see them.
I am thinking about what Amanda told me about Prince Henry.
I wander the halls of the palace restlessly.
I do not know where I am going, but my feet carry me there anyway.
I stop in front of the royal library, and I look around nervously.
The palace is quiet at this time of day, and no one is around to see me.
Amanda's lessons are in the east wing of the palace, but I saw her slip inside here a few minutes ago.
I push open the door quietly and peer inside.
The room is dimly lit, and it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness.
The walls are lined with tall shelves that stretch all the way up to the ceiling.
There are books stacked on every shelf, and they overflow onto the floor in piles.
Amanda is standing on a stool in front of one of the shelves.
She pulls down a book and flips through its yellowed pages quickly before putting it back again. She pulls down another book and flips through it just as quickly before putting it back again too.
She keeps searching through the books until she finds one that makes her stop moving altogether.
She pulls it down slowly and opens it carefully.
She flips through its pages slowly, and then she finds what she is looking for.
She climbs down from the stool slowly, and then she carries the book over to a table near the window.
She opens it again, and then she pulls out a drawer from underneath the table.
It is filled with papers, and she starts pulling them out quickly.
They scatter across the floor as they fall out of her grasp, but she does not stop pulling them out until they are all gone.
Then she drops down to her knees to start picking them up again.
I watch her from the doorway quietly as she searches through them frantically.
She mutters to herself as she reads each one quickly before tossing it aside again. She finds one that makes her stop moving altogether, though, and then she stares at it for a long time without moving at all.
Finally, she picks it up gently and carries it over to a chair near the fire before sitting down slowly with it in her lap carefully.
She stares at it for a long time without moving at all again, but then she breaks its wax seal finally with trembling fingers carefully.
I linger in the doorway quietly as she unfolds it slowly.
She stares at it for a long time, and then she starts reading it slowly.
The words are too far away for me to see, but I watch her face in the firelight instead.
Her fingers trace each line carefully, and then her expression changes slowly from confusion to something like hope.
The crackle of burning logs draws me forward finally, and I step inside the room quietly.
I walk over to the chair beside hers, and I stop there.
Papers are scattered all over the floor around us, and their official seals glint red in the firelight.
My heart pounds loudly in my chest, and I break the silence between us finally.
"I have loved you too," I tell her softly.
Her hands tighten on the document in her lap, crinkling its edges loudly.
"I found something," she says, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.
"What is it?" I ask, leaning closer to catch a glimpse of the document.
"It's a letter from my mother," Amanda whispers, her eyes wide with revelation.
Her hands shake as she holds it closer to the firelight.
I lean against the back of her chair, my fingers still resting on her shoulder.
She takes a deep breath before starting to read it aloud.
The words are written in elegant script, and Amanda's voice catches on the first few lines.
She clears her throat and starts again, but the parchment crackles loudly as she adjusts her grip on it.
I glance down at her profile, and I see tears shining in her eyes.
She reads on, and when she reaches what seems to be the most important part of the letter, she stops reading altogether.
She presses the parchment to her chest suddenly, and then she turns to look at me.
Her expression is a mix of hope and despair.
I lean forward slowly, drawn in by the vulnerable look in her eyes.
The firelight casts flickering shadows on her face, and then she tilts her head up to meet mine.
My hand slides from her shoulder to cup her cheek, and I feel the dampness of tears beneath my fingers.
The crackle of burning logs is the only sound in the room for a moment, and then the rustling of parchment fills the silence between us.
Amanda's grip on the letter loosens slightly as I move closer, and I am close enough now to see the golden flecks in her blue eyes.
Her breath catches audibly as our faces draw near, and her lips part slightly with anticipation.
I lift the wrinkled parchment carefully from her trembling fingers, and our hands brush against each other briefly.
The firelight flickers across the elegant handwriting as I smooth the letter out against my knee.
The words are written in delicate curves, and some spots are stained with what looks like old tears.
I take a deep breath before starting to read from where Amanda stopped, and my voice wavers slightly with the formal language.
Amanda leans closer to me, her shoulder pressing against mine, as she follows along with the words she couldn't bring herself to speak.
I shift on the cushioned chair, sliding closer to her so that my arm can fit behind her back.
She leans into me, and I feel the softness of her hair brush against my cheek as I continue reading.
The parchment trembles slightly in my hands, but I keep my voice steady as I speak the words aloud.
Amanda's fingers trace each line as I speak them, and her shoulders tense at certain parts of the letter.
When she draws in a sharp breath, I pause my reading and tighten my hold around her waist.
She nods at me to continue, and I clear my throat before speaking again.
The fire crackles loudly, and Amanda jumps slightly in her seat.
I hold the parchment up to the light, trying to get a better look at the strange markings on the bottom of the letter.
They are faint and almost invisible unless held right up to the flame.
I squint, tilting the parchment until I can see the lines better.
The words are scratched into the paper itself, hidden beneath the ink that is flaking away with age.
Amanda leans in closer to me, her breath warm against my neck as she peers down at the faint markings.
I run my finger along the indentations, and she grabs my wrist, stopping me.
Her eyes widen as she traces over a symbol pressed into the corner of the parchment.
I reach past Amanda to open the top drawer of the library desk, my sleeve brushing against her arm.
The drawer is filled with quills and inkwells, and I rummage through them until my fingers find the brass magnifying glass tucked in the back corner.
Amanda shifts closer to me as I hold the glass over the symbol, her golden hair falling forward to brush against the parchment.
The firelight catches the lens, casting a focused beam onto the corner of the letter.
Under the magnifying glass, the pressed mark begins to take shape.
Intricate swirls form what looks like a royal seal, but it is not one that I recognize from Aledress.
Amanda gasps softly, and I realize we've stumbled upon something far more significant than either of us had anticipated.
I lower the magnifying glass, and Amanda's fingers brush against my hand as she holds the letter.
Her blue eyes lock onto mine, filled with an urgent question that I can't quite decipher.
The fire crackles loudly, and the flames dance higher, casting flickering shadows on the walls of the library.
Amanda leans in closer to me, her breath warm against my cheek as she peers down at the letter.
The gold in her hair catches the light of the fire, and I feel my heart rate quicken.
Neither of us speaks as her fingers intertwine with mine, the parchment forgotten between us.
The mysterious seal and its meaning fade into the background as Amanda's other hand reaches up to touch my face.
"Alec," she whispers, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire, "do you think this could be connected to my father's disappearance?"
I swallow hard, the weight of her question settling heavily between us.
"If it is," I reply, meeting her gaze with determination, "then we might be closer to finding out the truth than we ever thought."
