At her coming of age, Dragnof's royal soothsayer poured over every manner of divination, from charting the stars to back street fortune telling, at the behest of Belserion. An heir's future was imperative to the future success of the monarchy. It was tradition, faulty as it was, to make the throne, and thus the populace, secure. Naturally, the results procured were ghastly and far too forbidding for any season much less a blossoming one.
"It will be a fascinating season, a season of beauty, a season of madness." The smelling salts hung heavy in the air. The shadows of the overgrown herbaceous plants cast a pall that pervaded all in sight. "Sire," he turned to the King Regent, "nothing is certain, the strings of fate dance in a mysterious rhythm. Even if I were to pin one down...it would be quite unwise to trust any notion brought forth. Only the cocksure would trust it. Fate is in constant motion...refashioning itself at whim. "
Belserion appraised the seer with a glance, not at all unkind. "As I happen to remember, divination while vague lends more insight upon numerous inquiries. Surely, you have seen more." Dragons eyes were keener. Oblong memories said to encompass universes with longevity to match.
"My fate is my own to ponder," Irene's lip twitched in agitation. She knew Belserion only held her best interests at heart, but she would soon be a Queen in her own right. A ruler who would have to weigh the options. Moreover, she was no longer a child and, regardless of the dragon's intentions, Irene could not help but resent that Belserion still treated her as such.
"I made a promise to your father, Irene. A solemn oath to safeguard you and your future. I will not forsake it no matter what may come to pass." His attention shifted once more to the soothsayer. "Divination has limits as well as any other form of sorcery. I understand that well enough, but this can not be all there is to gather; keep pursuing this endeavor. At least for the time being."
"As you wish, sire," the soothsayer bowed deep enough that he could see the specks of dust on the floor, "events of significance. They may sunder the path the fates have set. Although I must warn you, it may require time."
The season was not yet upon the palace, so they moved toward other obligations in preparation for everything to come. Like a persistent bug in the summer heat, the question remained in the back of Irene's mind.
What was waiting for her? The future, ruling the country, it always felt so far off. She thought, hoped against all hope; there would be time for adventures and dreams before reality sunk in. Before long, Irene would find herself chained to a stranger. For the good of people. This blossoming, as some described, it meant, only, that she was fit to wed.
Time did not halt for anyone. Even princesses faced its grueling pace. Irene's fifteenth name day was fast approaching, and its passing would mark the end of her childhood as well. Soon she would have to face the responsibilities of the throne. What did she have to show for it? What made her worthy?
A shout echoed from the gate signifying the first arrivals. The carriage was modest, the horses were not ill-bred, but they lacked any indication of being well bred. Their gait belied the length of their journey as they laggard closer. When the carriage halted a girl, who could not be much older than herself, climbed out and took her breath away.
Debuts for the aristocracy were rooted in impressions and social climbing. They were allowed lighthearted affairs — mistakes made in the heat of the moment.
Irene found herself feigning cluelessness in the palace maze just to steal a few precious moments with Anna. Her hair glinted like spun gold in the sunlight. She let the sorceress lead her although she knew perfectly well they were going the wrong way. To the chagrin of all save perhaps Belserion they had become fast friends. The Heartfilia's were viewed as upstarts by the rest of the court. A new house. Titles granted within less than a generation. Anna only assured their place at court; a prodigy the likes of which had not been seen in centuries. Soon her escort would return to the Heartfilia family villa while she trained under the tutelage of Dragnof's most esteemed sorcerers.
"We could go on those adventures you know," Anna's voice pulled her from her thoughts. "Belserion doesn't have to know." The naivety struck Irene.
The statement gave her pause. Open skies, seas of cerulean, the simplicity of a life free of the constraints of court. Alas, it was not possible. Belserion may not fault her for a flight of fancy, but he had born the crown for her in spite of gaining nothing from the endeavor. "Perhaps," the way she gazed at her with stars in her eyes gave Irene pause. Departing from the castle made her heart strain uneasily. So wholly torn between her desires and her duty.
As the princess, soon to be queen, this was the first of many decisions in which the fate of the kingdom rested and given her prophecy, it was likely to end in ruin. She thought back to the soothsayer. Patron of a multitude of nigh unreliable magic. Foretellings that came to fruition once in a millennium.
"I imagine you had somewhere particular in mind?" She would not allow her life to be determined by potions and prophecies.
Anna's smile broke across her face like the sun breaking through the clouds. "Wherever the wind takes us." If it where anyone else Irene would have rolled her eyes. Instead, she let Anna take her hand as they continued through the maze.
Thus began a fascinating season, a season of beauty, a season of madness. A season of wonder, without compare, which would forever alter Irene's course. Whether it was to her benefit or detriment...only with the passing of sands through times, hourglass would fate reveal its true design.