A/N: Can you believe it? Another story! I can't help but write about them. :) I hope you enjoy!
Unexpectedly, I haven't had that much schoolwork to do so far. I know, it's shocking to me too. I don't know how often I'll update, but hopefully it will be at least once a week.
A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches, and loving favor rather than silver and gold.
She rushed into her family's drawing room on her way to her own bedroom, hoping that she could somehow escape her mother's daily questioning. It had been a long, long day, and a hard one and she just didn't want to talk about it. Not that she didn't like talking in general. Of course she did. How could she not with a father like hers? His ability to talk himself out of any situation was as legendary in the kingdom as his past as a thief. Her father liked to talk all right. Sometimes her mother even joked that he talked in his sleep! Yes, you couldn't get her father to stop talking that often. Not to mention that very few things had ever stunned her father into silence. Mother had often told her that she could count the number of times that her father had been rendered speechless on one hand. And Mother frequently said that she was a lot like him.
But today she feared she was not acting like her father at all-he was much tougher than she was. He probably wouldn't have put up with the massive amount of teasing that she had. Instead, he most likely would have beat up the perpetrators or something else that he thought Flynn Rider would do. That's just how he was. Maybe she took after her mother more in this instance. As soon as she thought that, though, she debunked it. Her mother was tough too, like her father. Just in a different and softer way. But tough nonetheless. So if she wasn't like her father, OR her mother, than who was she like?
"How were your lessons, sweetheart?"
Inwardly she kicked herself. Maybe if she hadn't been so caught up in her own dreary thoughts, she would have somehow escaped her mother's question. Or maybe not. Her mother didn't usually miss much when it came to her children and she had probably picked up on her bad mood. At least she wasn't dealing with her father. He never missed anything, period. He often cheerfully said that at least one good thing came out of his career as a thief: his almost superhuman powers of observation. Nobody could ever pull anything over on him, he boasted. Generally, she rolled her eyes at when he talked like that, because she knew he was joking most of the time. But she had to admit that in this case, he was absolutely right. He always knew when something was bothering any of his children, and would persistently interrogate them until he found out what the problem was. Then he would try to fix it. Her mother was just as persistent, but at least she was gentler about it.
Her mother sounded very concerned now, and she almost wished she could curl up her mother's lap and tell her all about it. But she was thirteen now, and she didn't fit there anymore, in more ways then one.
"Aw, Mother, don't worry about it," her twelve year old brother, Flynn, was saying. "She's just being mopey. As usual."
She felt irritation rise up in her. Flynn was not named for her father's alter ego, Flynn Rider, for nothing. And if she was a little like her father, then Flynn was a lot like her father. In some cases, it seemed like there was no distinguishing between the two. They both had the same sense of humor and the same ability to talk somebody's ear off. There was always a quick remark, always some kind of wisecrack to say for every single occasion. They even looked exactly alike, from the hazel eyes to the two unruly locks of hair that never wanted to stay in place. Usually she put up with their joking in good spirits, but today she couldn't handle it. She opened her mouth to say a retort of her own.
"Stop pestering Leana, Flynn. Can't you see that she's upset about something?" Now Arthur was speaking.
She felt a smile creep onto her face. Arthur was well-named too. And if she had to pick a favorite brother, it would have to be Arthur. Even though he was only ten, he was so much like the noble king in the legends already. Kind and valiant, he always stuck up for her, and their youngest brother, Edward. Sometimes she wondered how Arthur and Flynn came from the same parents. They were so different, almost polar opposites.
"Yeah!" said little Edward, eight.
She glanced at him. He was smiling, as usual, and his green eyes sparkled. His name described him well, too: happy or prosperous. Sometimes she thought that Edward had been born with all their mother's cheerfulness, and she had received none of it. She considered her brothers for a moment:
Flynn- the practical joker and wisecrack
Arthur-the gentle and noble
Edward-the perpetually perky
Indeed, their names thoroughly described their nature. Lucky.
Which left her on the outside. Her name didn't describe her at all. Her parents actually hadn't told her much about her name, only that it meant light. She held back a bitter laugh. Ha! She was nothing like it; and even though she didn't want to admit it, Flynn was right about her. She had been especially moody lately. She didn't mean to be, but it just happened. It seemed that everything about her was just…wrong. From her name, to her boring brown hair and ugly eyes. Her mother tried to cheer her up by saying her eyes were the most beautiful and unusual shade of brown and green, but to her they seemed to be in the middle belonging to neither color. Kind of like her-belonging to neither one of her parents. So she was miserable.
Overcome with ill feelings, she sent a glare to Flynn, and a grateful look to both Arthur and Edward, and then walked away into her room, ignoring her mother entirely.
She lay on her bed, wishing that she was somebody else and somewhere else. Soon, she heard a knock on her door, and she knew it was her mother. She mentally debated about whether or not she wanted to answer it, but decided that she would. She wasn't actually mad at her mother, so why punish her? She walked over to the door and let her mother in silently.
Her mother's eyes were full of concern. "Leana, I'm not going to press you to tell me anything, but I do wish you would tell me what's bothering you."
Something unlocked within her, and she felt a tear slip unintentionally from her eyes, and it was followed by another and another. Soon, she was completely sobbing in her mother's loving arms. Her mother stroked her hair gently, and whispered "it's going to be all right," in her ear. But she didn't feel like it ever would be. "Everything's wrong about me," she sobbed.
Her mother pulled back to look into her teary eyes. "What?" she asked, confused. "Nothing's wrong with you, sweet."
She felt another batch of tears pool behind her eyes. Sweet! She was the furthest thing from it. "Yes, there is!" she choked out. "From my eyes to my hair, everything. Even my name!"
Her mother looked doubly confused now. "Your…name?"
"Yes," she said tearfully. "Why did you ever name me Leana? I'm not like….light at all and nobody has a name like mine here. "
Her mother seemed at a loss for words. "Your name is special," she said finally.
Another wave of irritation rose within her. "Oh yes," she spat. "So special that all the others tease me about it!"
Her mother looked at her, compassionately. "Ah. I'm so sorry."
She knew that her mother was sorry, just not sorry enough to change her name. Nevertheless, she asked anyway. "Isn't there some way…I could be named something…else?"
Her mother's eyes began to take on a certain look, and she realized a story was forthcoming. Her mother loved telling stories about her and her father's adventures. She had heard the story about how they meet in her mother's old tower half a million times, from both her mother's and her father's perspectives. She actually liked the story, and she couldn't decide whose telling was better. Her mother's was focused on the romance, and her father's the adventures. He even started it that way- "This is the story of how I died…" The first time she had heard that, she had cringed, sure that the story was going to be awful. He had to assure her that it was a fun story and she would, in fact, enjoy it. So, even though she still felt miserable, she was curious about her mother's story. Because nobody was better at telling stories than her mother in the entire kingdom. Well, besides her father, of course. He was pretty spectacular at it too.
"Are you going to tell me a story now?" she asked.
Her mother smiled at her. "Actually, yes. I'm surprised I haven't told you this one before. It's about a dear friend of mine with a name that you know well."
She thought about that for a minute. "Is the name…Leana?"
A slow smile spread across her face. "So are you going to tell me this story now?"
Her mother appeared to consider it for a minute, as if weighing her options. "Hmm," she said. "I will, but I want your brothers to hear it too. It's quite a sensational story."
Suddenly, she heard another knock on her door. It opened softly, and her father poked his head in.
"Hello!" he said. "How are my favorite wife and my favorite daughter doing today?"
She let out an unladylike snort. "I'm your only daughter," she told him.
Her mother beamed, and she loved the look her mother had in her eyes whenever her father was in the room: like he was the center of the world. Her father often looked the same way at her mother. It was nice, she decided, to have parents who were so obviously in love with each other.
Her father stroked his chin. "Hmmm…..nuance. Minor detail." He cleared his throat. "So what were you two talking about?"
Her mother answered. "I was going to tell her the story about Screlandria and Leana."
He looked only mildly horrified. "Oh no," he groaned. "Why that story? I'm afraid I was a terrible bear in that one. Can't you tell another? Like one where I do something heroic? I could tell her a story about my Flynn Rider days if she's looking for something exciting. For example…"
Her mother smirked and interrupted him. "I'm afraid not. Leana here needs to hear about her namesake."
His facial expression changed instantly to resignation. "Ah. Well, if you have to tell it, then you must let me tell part of it too. How else will she get the right impression of me?"
She watched her mother grin broadly. "Ahem. I usually portray you correctly. But if you insist…."
He looked at her sternly, but she could tell it was an act. He wasn't really mad or stern with her mother. Ever. "I do."
"Okay," her mother agreed. "But I get to start the story."
He let out a sigh. "Oh, all right. It does begin with you anyway. But I get to say the first sentence."
Her mother was bemused. "And why is that?"
"Because I always begin stories the best."
Leana watched as her brothers gathered around her parents. She could tell that they were just as excited as she was to hear this story. Both of them told amazing stories separately but together? It would be beyond fantastic.
"So?" she asked impatiently.
Her father acted like he didn't know what she was talking about. "So…"
"So can you start the story?"
"Start the story? You want me to tell you a story?" he said, confused.
Her mother shoved him playfully. "Eugene! Just begin already, will you? Can't you see they're excited?"
"Oh all right," He conceded. "Well," He said grandly. "This is the story….."