Name: High King Belenus Celvorian II of Taran
Named after my great grandfather, my father’s father’s father, who held the throne and the scepter long before I was even dreamed of.
Sex: Male
Though Queens, many ages ago, held the throne and the scepter in Olencia, Kings are preferable. My mother was lucky to have produced three male heirs.
Age: 75
And aging quickly. My serving men tell me I do not look a day over sixty-two years, but then again, I could have their heads if I wished.
Occupation: I was born to serve, and I will die to serve. Olencia is my breath, blood, and body.
Status & Rank: Noble High King of Olencia, Ambassador of the Four Houses, Servant of the Realm, Protector of the Land, Son of the Gods, Deliverer of Justice, and High Seat of House Taran
Roots & Origin: My Lord father High King Elyas Faxon of Taran was married to his Lady Queen Sana Mahdis of Marlas on the second day of his reign, crowned a mere week after his aging father (my grandfather) had taken a nasty fall from his throne, only to meet his death at the floor. He was a bitter young lad of only twenty-two years when he took his throne, and his marriage was strictly for politics, never for love, save that he bore his children. Sana was always a good lady, nevertheless.
Within the first year of his reign, their first child was born, my eldest brother, Dacian Kolvyn. The gods and people alike rejoiced as his birth, and no longer was producing an heir such an urgent matter. Until my brother, whom I never had the pleasure to meet, had an allergic reaction to his royal nameday feast on his second year. My next brother, Vince Valleran, was produced to take his place the third year of my father’s reign. Vince was a strong healthy boy, and next, I was born two years later, Belenus Celvorian II, named from my father’s father’s father. It would never be my place to take the throne (they thought), but a noble name was deserved nevertheless.
With two male heirs, it would seem that the Taran reign was as solid as iron, but my mother desired a girl-child whom she could be companion to, since my father was busy with his sons and bore her no love. My father was not a cold man, however, and he gave her two twin daughters, my sisters Iria Lelahiah and Sabine Calantia, in a particularly fruitful sixth year of his reign. My parents seemed to be unable to bear anymore children after the twins came forth, but it was announced in my fifteenth year that I was to have another sibling. My mother was overjoyed – until Iria disappeared on her wedding day. She gave birth to stillborn Maren Diamara in my father’s twentieth reign year, and my mother is said to have died of grief only a month later.
That was my family as a child.
Appearance: I was never a good-looking boy or an attractive man, but I was no stump either. In my younger years, I had chocolate-brown hair that was cut near my ears, as was proper for a man of my status. Now, it is thinning, and my facial hair is gone. My eyes are brown as well, a trait that all my children inherited, and all my brothers and sisters shared, despite my mother’s green eyes. They’re rather watery and paler now. I used to be of a good height – five feet and around ten inches – but I’ve been shrinking in my age. When I was a youth, I was fit and well toned, but in my middle years, I gained a bit around the middle. Now that I am an old man, I’ve lost most of my muscle and my weight. I’m a pile of bones waiting to be buried.
I dress as a king should, and I always have dressed according to my status. Now that I’m older though, I do not replace my clothes as much as I should. My reign has been without a wife for thirty-four years, and Vrinda was the only one who I’d allow to command my wardrobe. Some things smell rather musty, and others have holes where the moths have been. All of my clothes now are too loose, but what a waste of coin it would be to replace them. I suspect I’ll kick the bucket any day now.
As far as my crown, I used to have a nice-sized gold one, with plenty of rubies and sapphires, but as I lost my hair it began to agitate my balding head. Now, I have a much lighter one, though it’s not as impressive. Pah, it was only for appearances anyway. I’m still the King, after all.
Strengths: 1. In his day, Belenus had a fair hand at weaponry, and eventually he learned strategic battle positions. Unfortunately, he has neglected such a strength over the years, and with his illness, it is not likely that he could even draw his sword.
2. He used to have a good hand at jokes as well, but alas, who can tell jokes with such a depressing history?
3. Belenus has learned not to spend too much on himself. He does not buy as many clothes now that he is aging, and his crown does not need constant re-jeweling.
4. Belenus is a good horse rider and even with his illness, he has learned to ride a gentle horse named Goryea.
Weaknesses: 1. Belenus’s physical illness has left him weak, and now often bedridden. Usually he is not even able to rise to perform his kingly duties.
2. His past and present have left him with a mental illness as well. He is usually quite depressed.
3. While he does not spend much on himself, Belenus flits away money now that he is sure House Taran is over. The country’s treasury will probably be empty or even worse, in debt, when he dies.
4. Belenus never had much tolerance for alcohol.
5. Women do not impress Belenus anymore, after his wife’s death. He is convinced that she was the only woman beautiful enough for him, and he cannot forgive himself because he prayed for the birth of his last son (which resulted in her death).
6. A foolish weakness, but despite all of Belenus’s strategic training, he could never beat his teachers at strategy games. He spends some time now trying to beat the scholars of the palace, but he still cannot seem to manage it.
Magic: If I had any magic, my brothers, sisters, sons, daughters, and wife would still be alive, wouldn’t they? Hell, I wouldn’t be king – my brother would.
Personality: At one point in time, Belenus was a jovial, young man. He enjoyed laughing, and he had many friends. His trust was easily gained, and not easily broken, and the world could not have been better for him. With the life that he has lead however, Belenus has been beaten and broken by death, pain, discipline, and duty. His humor is gone, his smile is rare, and all that remains is a depression that looms over all that he does.
Belenus did not always possess the strange sense of duty that his brother, Vince, had. He acquired it first by needing to be a pillar of support for his brother and sister when hard times erupted, only able to gain it by finding himself alone for several years. He feels a sense of guilt due to his nephew’s death and the death of his children and wife. While he knows that Olencia is wasting away while he does, he does not feel that there is much of a point. House Taran is finished for certain. What does it matter?
History: It’s not a pleasant tale, but if you must know, you must…
My childhood was happy and relaxed, as my mother loved me, as did my father, and I was not suspected to ever take the throne. I was entertained with foolish things, and I learned my lessons just as a good prince should. I loved my sisters dearly, and never did I intentionally do them any wrong. Sabine later grew to hate me, but that’s of other matters. Since my brother, Vince, and I were only two years apart in age, I was able to tag along to many of his lessons. They would prove to be useful later in life, if anything should happen to him, or so my elders always said. Vince was always an honest, good boy. He understood the weight of war and politics. To me, war was just a legend, warriors were to be admired. I liked to play at swords; he didn’t like swords, but he saw the necessity. I tended to neglect my book studies because I did not understand the importance of history or arithmetic. Why should I, the boy wishing to become a warrior, have need of knowing all my father’s father’s names? But at my teachers’ prodding, I did learn. I would learn or have no swords.
When my first sisters were born, I grew very close to the twins. Vince was too busy with his heir duties as he grew older to be a good elder brother, so it fell to my responsibility to do so. Sabine was always distasteful and had a will of her own, while Iria was as sweet as any flower would be. Nevertheless, I loved the both of them, and we would spend countless days by the creek in the back of the palace pretending that I was a knight and they were two lovely ladies in distress. The edges of those memories are faded now, but I still cherish them, as both my sisters are not known to me anymore.
As I grew older, my view of people expanded from my family to those in court. I came to have many friends among the noble sons in the court, unlike my brother, who chose to have a few close friends only. The ladies also became an attraction to me, but I didn’t seem to have as much luck wooing them as my brother seemed to. Perhaps that was because he was destined for the crown, and if all went as planned, it was not to be mine. I had my own loves in those days, and I certainly wasn’t to be married in white.
The first of us to be married, however, was Iria, promised to a young husband at a youthful age. As gentle and sweet as she was, our parents saw a match to be made, though Sabine would have to be held off later. To my father, it seemed that some of the nobles were restless. He hoped that marriages could tie off some loyalties. In light of Iria’s engagement, my mother also found word that she was pregnant yet again. It was a joyous occasion, but the clouds were about to turn very dark in my world. Iria, only a few hours from her wedding ceremony to a Calandae noble of relation to the High Seat, disappeared, never seen to my eyes again. My mother was heartbroken and searched endlessly for her beloved daughter, Sabine forgotten for the moment. It affected her pregnancy, I suspect, for Maren Diamara was born dead to us. Even worse, my mother was taken by grief only a few months later. This did not do well for Sabine. She was more alone than she ever had been, with only me by her side. Elyas loved her so, but he was busy preparing Vince for his reign.
The time finally came when my brother was twenty-four years old. What would have been my father’s forty-ninth nameday feast became his funeral due to a hunting accident. It was a sad time, but my brother was as ready as any man to take the throne. I honor him for that. I had always honored my brother. I was the pillar more than ever however, and I was not ready. I was a boy of only twenty-two, the age my father had taken the throne. How could I support my sister and my brother? I did not hold strong like my brother would have done. Instead, I ran. I disappeared to my family until my brother’s wedding day seven years later, when I was finally man enough to face up to my duties as brother to the king. My sister looked down on me for that, stronger than I could hope to be. I don’t think she ever forgave me that, though she did come to accept me again. My brother couldn’t have been happier to see me. He married Cerenla Terav, a woman of Calendae of the same family that Iria would have married into. Three years later, I had a nephew, of my father’s name.
It was at the birth of my niece that I met my own wife. Days of feasting were filled with nobles from all the land, and I stumbled across Vrinda Yesande, also from Calendae, in the moonlight. The Gods had graced me, not for the first time in life, and I was able to take her hand only one year later. In that same year, my brother’s wife contracted an illness, resulting in her death. My brother was able to remain strong, and he still had two heirs to keep his line continuing. I advised him to find love again, remembering our own family, but my brother was as honorable as ever. Cerenla Terav would be his only love, and Elyas Faxon II and Sana Cerenla would be his only children.
I was distracted from my brother’s grief though, a my wife bore my first child, Zerlina Jovianne, a beautiful baby girl, and then Dacian Nero, my first boy, in the next two years. My happiness did not last. In the next year, my brother contracted the same incurables illness as his wife had, and Valleran took him. I was appointed as regent for my nephew Elyas, as he had no parents to do so for him. Being only six years old, he was not fit yet to rule as king. The illness spread through the household, taking several loyal servants and soon my niece Sana and her playmate, my own daughter, Zerlina. I had not yet run out of tears. My son was throne from his horse and killed within the next year as well.
My hopes were hardly lifted when my last daughter was born, Oreantha Laraine. She was as beautiful as my wife was, but I feared too much that I would lose her. I feared losing my sister as well, so I sent her away, for which Sabine grew to hate me. Her estates were far from the palace, far from illness, I hoped. I had a son, but he didn’t live long enough to be even considered in this history, hardly long enough to be given the name Verne Simeon, weak at birth.
To make things even worse, my nephew was murdered by one of his own men, supposedly employed by a Maloren merchant, but who believes such confessions? It was suspected that I had done it for my own benefit, just for the throne. How could I shame my family as such, was my only reaction. I would never take the throne from my brother’s heir. But I was forced to take it now.
It was a wonder that I did not contract the illness that seemed to pass through my household, though I should suspect that I have it now. Oreontha was taken by it, how my heart weeps for my baby girl. I prayed to the gods that I could have one last chance, and for it they took my wife, giving me my last son, Penril Tanith. Vrinda was my love, and I understood my brother’s dedication to his wife. I would not marry again.
Penril became the focus of my life. He was spoiled in his years with me, and he was kept under the constant guard of Hadrian, the High Commander now. But he was stolen from me, kidnapped, and even though I could tear apart the realm, I could not find him. How could I have been so blind as to not see it before? It was a conspiracy.
I was foolish not to have seen it in my younger years, so I have ruled now for ages in a depressed state. What is the point in seeking out these conspirators? My son is gone, likely not even alive, and with my sister’s passing, she claims that her daughter’s only child was illegitimate, though her daughter’s guardsman does say that she was married. What does it matter? House Taran is finished, and I am a failure to my family, to my house, and to Olencia.