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Nameless: A Fairy Tale
by A Very Tall Oak Tree in City Park
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The wedding took place within three days of Nameless’
arrival. Morgan was hardly surprised; everything in his life lately
seemed to be presided over by the number three. Preparations had been
made daily, and Morgan saw nothing of Nameless although Bowen sprung
up at every opportunity, growing more popular each day by currying
favor with nobles and helping farmers with strenuous tasks. Morgan
merely turned his head whenever he saw his son, passing by quickly and
acting as though he could not see him. Bowen took the same course of
action with his father. Morgan felt odd passing by a man as old as he
and thinking of him as a son; Bowen’s feelings towards his father
could only be interpreted as resentfulness and disgust. He did not
like to think of himself as anyone’s son—he wanted to be
self-sufficient. Both father and son reached a silent agreement: They
could coexist peacefully if they did not interact.
On the wedding day, Morgan awoke to shouts of jubilation and happily
tooting horns. He emerged from the confines of the castle and stepped
into a joyfully teeming courtyard. Chickens ran amok while children
scampered about their parents’ legs, playing games and laughing.
Morgan’s spirits lifted slightly in the cheery atmosphere; the
happiness was catching. He skipped the wedding itself; the thought of
watching Bowen and Nameless taking the traditional vows turned his
stomach. Instead he dashed off at the last minute and reappeared for
the dances afterwards.
As he had expected, Bowen, after having proved himself to be a
socialite, was immediately swept off by the peasantry. Morgan couldn’t
help suppress a smile as he watched the disgruntled Bowen dragged away
against his will, a forced smile painted upon his dark face. Nameless
sat alone in a large chair, staring gloomily into the distance. Many
women had approached her, trying to spark a discussion about children,
weaving, or some such nonsense, yet had quickly given up and departed.
Clearly this new addition to their community was not much of a
conversationalist. Morgan approached her nonchalantly, as if he were a
well-wisher come to grant her happiness. She glanced up warily,
showing no sign of recognition. Morgan began with light banter, hoping
to assuage any possible suspicion.
“Not dancing on your wedding day?”
Nameless stared at him as if he were a disreputable heretic. “I have
no cause to do so, sir. This day is not a happy one for me.” She
turned away.
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