“Feast and be merry,” the king declared, “for with this union, we have brought peace and prosperity to our nation!” Resounding cheers echoed through the hall. Mugs and goblets clinked against each other with the sound of laughter as splashes of mead and ale spilled over the sides. A jovial tune played in the background and entertainers rose to begin the celebrations.
The king looked over to his queen. He smiled warmly, caressing her face with his broad hand before checking on the tiny bundle in her arms. The baby stirred for a moment, caught on a change in the tune, and drifted back to sleep.
So how does a stolen peasant infant become the King’s chosen ward? Let me start back at the beginning.
You see, many years ago, the king and queen were barren. The king demanded an heir, but like the wind demanding a mountain to move, his cries went unanswered.
“How does a stolen peasant infant become the King’s chosen ward?”
Well, yes, they did eventually have a child. Yes, there he is sitting on the lap of the king right now. He’s barely more than five now, but this story is not really about him, is it?
The king became more intolerable the longer he went without an heir. He sent for physician after physician, doctor after doctor, midwife after midwife to find a cure for his wife. He knew the problem lied with her. After all, as king, nothing could possibly be wrong with his reproductive functions. Each time the medical practitioners failed, he threw a bigger tantrum, so much so that his wife became repulsed by his toddler demeanor.
Finally, the king had no other resort. He must turn to magic.
Many had warned him against it. Many had told him of the dangers. But what could the king do? He must have an heir for his reign to continue. So he sought out the most powerful sorcerer in the land and they stayed with him for a fortnight.
“A fortnight,” the sorcerer had promised, “that’s all it will take for the magic to take its course and bless you with a child.” And the promise came true. The queen became pregnant and she gave birth to a son.
But the love and intimacy which had blossomed between the sorcerer and the queen did not fade and they continued to see each other in secret.
Oh, did I forget to mention? The child bouncing on the king’s knee, giggling with glee is not the king’s son at all. Not in any biological way, at least. The king’s ignorance of his impotence will never cease to surprise me.
Yet the king did not stay ignorant to brewing romance between his wife and the sorcerer. Catching them in the act one fateful night, the king slew the wizard. His queen, fearing for her life and the life of her son, claimed the magician had put her under his spell.
“It was all fake,” she assured him. “My heart stayed true to you. Killing him has freed me from his control.”
But you are probably wondering how on middle-earth does this have anything to do with a stolen infant being the king’s ward?
Patience. I’m getting there.
After his wife’s lovestruck betrayal, the king banned all magic and punished all those who practiced with death. His heart turned cold against the very thing he had sought to give him a son (though unknowingly, not the thing to actually give him a son). He sought out everyone, from the elderly to the smallest child, seeking anyone with the slightest hint of magic. He slaughtered them without mercy or regret.
So when the Lady of Narqueerin conceived a child with magic, she grew afraid.
“There is nothing to fear,” the lord said. “He doesn’t rule this land. He has no power here. He cannot harm our child.”
But a mother’s instincts are far more honed to future dangers than a wealthy man with servants and land. Before she had given birth, the king had proposed a union and treaty. It was a generous offer, truly, and with raiders on their north and eastern borders pillaging field and burning villages, they had to take it to protect their land.
The exchange was simple. The king offered armies and the power of his kingdom’s name as protection. In return, the Lord would fund the kingdom with gold, wood, and other precious resources. To seal the treaty, the king wanted his unborn child. The child would be brought up in the safety and comfort of the palace with the finest education. If it was a girl, she would be betrothed to his son and one day become queen. A boy would become the leader of his son’s armies and be blessed with more power and wealth than even the Lord could give him. The child would be brought into the palace as the King’s ward, treated as if it were the king’s own child.
Of course, this was really a polite way of saying, “Your child is collateral so just in case you ever think about stepping out of line, I have a nice little pressure point right at my fingertips.” The lord and lady knew this as they knew all politician speak. However, for a normal child, this opportunity was too excellent to pass up.
There was only one small problem; their child wasn’t normal.
No treaty would stop the king from killing their babe the moment he discovered it had magic. So what could they do? They needed the treaty, but they needed their child to be safe.
And this is where the tiny peasant baby, who has just woken up and begun babbling happily in the queen’s arms, comes in.
The feasting continued in happy ignorance. The little prince giggled at the entertainers, his bastardness hidden inside the heart of the queen. The queen smiled at the baby, her heart still grieving for her lover and hardened against the king. The baby stretched and wriggled in his bundle, his true identity buried in secrets, while the trigger-happy king laughed boisterously without knowledge of the mystery around him. The real royal baby nuzzled closer to his mother’s chest a thousand leagues away, his mother and father planning how often they should visit the kingdom to keep up pretenses that the other child was theirs.
How do I know all this? Because I am the dead sorcerer’s secret apprentice. I was there for all of it. I watched the king slay my mentor. I heard the queen lie. I stole the infant. Now, I’m here, risking my life to keep the true identity of the king’s ward safe.
This is the story of how I try to keep this mess of drama from completely going to shit.