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In some time past, but certainly not long long ago, a Regent reigned over the Kingdom he’d sworn himself to with watchful eyes. His King long gone, his regency lasting as his life. But the Regent had lived long enough, long enough to see that the times were changing with the increasing flow of people that traveled within its walls. The Reach continued, spreading to countless. Change washed across him like the shores, and he too decided to flow with it.
Progeny was required then, to fill the empty halls of his home and to bring new life to his rule. Generation the first of the Bay, he opened his doors to the next.
The first son, found in humble beginnings. His wordplay amused the Regent, his confidence plenty. He was adopted, the first of the second generation. He was loved, if the Regent was capable. But in the end, he betrayed the Regent, leaving the duties of the Throne for the mother of his children and her country.
The second son, ambitious and passionate, burned bright in his desire to be chosen. But his ambition led to his fall, so wrapped up in his work that he too faded from the eyes of the Regent, abandoning what his true ambitions should have been.
The third son, cunning and slick, worked for the Kingdom, using his trickery to advance the knowledge of the Throne. But he was tainted, morally corrupted by the work he did and left the Kingdom in his selfishness, tossing away what the Regent had raised him to be.
The fourth son, stricken from history. His failure was as spectacular as it was unremarkable, his name lost in the winds.
And the next generation, the first son of the first son failed him yet again. Saved from the disgrace of his father, the Regent saw potential, as this son stepped between two worlds. He raised the child as his own, naming him heir when the son made his choice to commit to the Kingdom.
A decade passed and with it, the son’s son, the heir, began to burn. He questioned, he traveled, he struggled with his choices at every turn. The religion of his country scorned, the details of his parentage haunting, and the decisions he made overshadowed any positive light he had once brought to the Kingdom. In his struggle, the pressure bore too much and the heir cracked under the weight of the world placed on his shoulders - like those who came before him. It wasn’t that the heir was bad- no. He simply did not meld to the Bay as was desired, and required of him. His forging too harsh, his ascension too quick perhaps.
In this supreme disappointment, one superseding that of any son, the Regent struck down the son that he had so raised and modeled to his liking.
The Regent acknowledged the failure of his sons, unworthy of the last name he’d given them with honor. But that did not solve the problem that he held – that of an heir.
His Heir felled by his own hand under the will of the Throne, he searched for another to fulfill his desire. Sons had not worked prior - perhaps he needed to change the tune of his choices.
The Regent reflected upon those he had lost and those who had triumphed under his exacting and brutal care. His chosen, their sons had all failed him. But the wives that they chose, once sharing relation in name, were rulers of their own. That of the first, long gone. That of the first’s first too held her passions for another country, embroiled in the conflict of another ascension. That of third and forth were of no consequence, nonexistent in every nature. But that of the second remained under his keen guidance, having explored the faults of others in her independence, she knew the true value of the Kingdom and the Throne, forever indebted to him for the opportunities he provided, the chances he allowed.
In the absence left behind by the death of the heir, the Regent proffered a hand to this one, this daughter chosen and forged under the many trials of the Bay.
She took his hand and from that embrace was reborn an heiress, the once wife of a once son of three.