GoT Writings

wk 2 Writing GoT prompt 1 w/c 561

Prompt 1: You've been researching your family tree, and discovered that one of your ancestors is not what they seemed - for better or worse. Tell us the story of their secret. ~ Story

Royal Lines.
Mom proudly told all who would listen of our royal roots. Seven or more generations back to the 13th century, we once held royal bloodlines. Even then, the royal family sought and obtained only the best regalia. The king’s robes were of the finest cloth, and the castle was the most imposing fortress of that time and age. It took many surfs to gather the boulders, cut them to perfection and then set them into an impenetrable wall. By the look of our finest cloth in the closets and the furnishings of our modern castle, you would never tell we were once royalty and held in highest esteem.
The gift of jealousy has not changed over the centuries. In that day, peasants soon became discontent with their place in the kingdom. As with all discontents, they were the most horrible of people with no moral compass and determined that the king and his entire family, regardless of age or gender, must be eliminated. Those mindless minions underestimated the intelligence and cunning of my ancestors. King Henry surmised what would come to pass. He reluctantly prepared for the worst. His queen had only one desire, to save the family’s lineage.
The king nodded sadly in agreement with the Queens’s plan. It was a risk, one that could only result in life or death, but no other option presented. The queen accepted the king’s robes from her man to swaddle their only boy child. She lined the wicker basket with pitch and leather. She cradled the wee one in the basket, letting her tears trace wet lines down his cheeks, before setting him afloat down the Vltava River.
Thereupon, the farmer Ludvik Vrchota, already the sire of six boys, came upon the baby while fishing for the day’s repast for his family. He took a significant risk in taking the child into his family rather than overturning the basket as his countrymen would have demanded. But Ludvik didn’t have the heart to end this innocent life. Those storming the castle addressed the king and queen's fate, they did not know of the infant’s trip down the river, they need not be advised of it now. Ivana, his obedient wife, took the child in as her own and nursed him to full health.
The Vrchotas took significant risk in retaining the king’s robes. They should have burned them, buried them, destroyed them, reused them, anything except what they did. The Vrchotas stored them in the bottom drawer of the family chest. If found, the family would have been dispensed with as had been the king and queen. But the robes luckily remained hidden for many years. Young Louis grew into a good-looking young man, to marry and raise a family of seven sons of his own. Many believed there was great luck and prosperity to be had if you were the 7th son of a 7th son. We thought so, too. Here six centuries later, and we were still alive and thriving.
“And that, Char, is how I descended from royalty. Can you beat that?”
“No, but I am studying medieval European history at the U of M, and I know that king and queen were beheaded and put on spikes and paraded around the kingdom in effigy.”
“So are you saying in reality, I’m descended from tyrants?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that sucks.”


w/c 561


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