The Crown of Abanon
There’s a small country surrounded by forest, fog, and water on its three sides that no one knows about. Then again, if no one knows about it how am I writing this? So I guess I was wrong, some people know about it, but more of the non people folk know than us people folk. In fact, even I didn’t realize this country existed till just recently. The modern world is lost in comparison, to the real beauty of the simple ways. Simple is what the small country of Abanon was…
I believe I found out about Abanon from a relative, I am not sure which side of the family, but I am pretty sure they believed it to be just a fairy tail they heard from their own relatives when they were small. I must have been five or six, crying or following my brother around like the annoying little sister I was, when an aunt or uncle would pick me up and tell me the story to hush my wild side up.
“Artemis,” They always started the story out the exact same way, “you remind me a young girl. She was an ever so beautiful girl, the daughter of a poor farmer. His wife had died in child birth under a moonless night. He had a hard time raising the girl, for most people were afraid to go near him or his daughter, they said horrible things about them. For the people believed there were dark spirits that roamed about on the moonless nights. For the girl was as inquisitive and troublesome as you.”
I had heard this story so many times; by the age of nine I could recite it flawlessly. “When the girl was sixteen, her father died, leaving her with only her brother. They grew even poorer as the year went on. Finally, her brother decided to enlist in the royal guard to support her. He left and promised to come back as soon as he could and to send her money once he got paid. She received his first letter with a bag full of coins just a week later. He sent her a letter and money every seven days. Four months passed when she finally received the letter she was waiting for. He said he would be coming home for three days the next week. She made sure the small cottage she had was cleaner than it had ever been the day he was to return home. The hours she waited fell away into a day and then another. Her brother never came and neither did a single letter. She fell into despair; she was alone in the world and afraid for her brother.
“Months passed and she still heard nothing, finally she decided to travel to the capitol of the kingdom and demand the whereabouts of her brother. She only packed a small bag with the remaining coins, a cloak, and two loafs of bread. Her journey was six days of rain and wind. The road to the capitol was old and worn, full of holes. She was drenched and caked with mud when she finally reached the gate into the capitol. She pulled her cloak on tight and slunk in with a caravan of salt Berber’s. She felt lost in the winding narrow roads of the huge city but she knew she had to keep moving. She found herself in dead ends and dark alleys more than once. As night fell she almost gave up trying to make her way to the palace. She closed her eyes and thought of her brother, he wouldn’t give up if he was searching for her. She opened her eyes to find herself standing right in front of the palace doors. There were four guards in full armor around the doors, they were watching her with carefully trained eyes. She approached them cautiously, and asked them if they knew her brother. At first, none of them even flinched, they acted as if she didn’t even exist. She broke down into tears and fell to her knees with her head in her hands.
“Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked up. A guard was bent down next to her with his arm around her. She couldn’t stop crying or shivering, she just wanted her brother. She almost didn’t feel the guard pick her up and carry her into the palace. He walked a ways deep into the palace’s heart. The guard set her down on a red cushioned bench. He took off his helmet revealing a full head of blonde disarrayed hair. His blue eyes were filled with sorrow. As he spoke she looked up at him and listened intently between her few sobs, “Apollo never spoke of any family to anyone here. We became friends and he never said a thing. But I am sure that you are his sister, you have the same look of deep seeded sadness in your hazel eyes. He was killed by a rival gone mad with revenge on his first day of leave. If I had known about you I would have gone and found you instead of you having to suffer so long and then suffer the trip here.” She cried, unable to speak for her heart overflowed with the sorrow of her entire life. She cried herself to sleep in the stranger’s arms.
“The years past and she never left the palace. The guard that had been her brother’s friend was the Kings sole heir, Brock. When the king died, Brock became the new ruler. He asked the girl to become his wife and she agreed to take the Crown of Abanon. This girls name was Artemis, she is your namesake.” They always ended the story the same way, telling me the origins of my name, usually about then I couldn’t sit any longer and would run off before I had to sit through another story. It’s not that I don’t like the stories, I was five or six, and what did they expect from me?
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