Summary: Ishtar POV. Parallel Universe from Volume Six onward. VordxFalan, IshtarxDarres, YujinnxDarres, SeiliezxLaphiji? "Because nowadays, loving someone just isn't a good enough reason to marry them."
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Princess Falan of Ci Xeneth and Prince Vord of La Naan are to be married.
Yeah. That wasn't a typo on my part; that's what's actually going to happen. Don't believe me, do ya. Well, that's okay, I was never all that reliable to begin with. Being a princess and all, people tend to agree with you even if you tell them that the ground is really blue and we're all standing on the sky. Maybe it has to do with the whole Look-At-Me-Cross-Eyed-And-I-Fire-You-With-One-Finger-Snap privilege. It does come in handy once in awhile. All except with Sir Keld, that is. I fire him once or twice a week but he doesn't pay any mind. I have a bet running with Krai that when he dies, we'll still be hearing the old fart's ghost plodding off to his Saturday shuffleboard tournaments.
When you really think about it (as I've had plenty of opportunity to do over the last few weeks), the whole thing's pretty funny. Who'd have thought that those two, of all the people in our family, would ever get hitched? I think it was partially arranged by Jened and Sonia, and partially by their own consent. Ever since Illsaide died, she's been gravitating to him for big-brother-type comfort, and I suppose (with Vord being the sweet but horny dog that he is) it all just went from there. How did Illsaide die? Well, he died the death that no one ever mentions in fairy tales: In battle, young and fierce and desperate. I was in La Naan when it happened, about four months ago, so I didn't see it first-hand, and Darres refused to tell me the gory details. It amuses me that after all this time, after all the nasty stuff I've dragged him into, he still treated me like a twelve-year-old. Like I said, the entire thing's kind of hilarious. It's not like I'm crying because I'm sad he behaved like I was eternally a kid, even if I still do act like one when I'm in a bad mood. Of course not. Big girls don't cry.
Ok, so maybe I am crying as I write this, just a little. But so what? It's my kingdom and I'll cry if I want to.
I talked to Falan about the whole sha-bang a couple weeks ago, mainly because I couldn't believe she'd really agreed willingly to the marriage. I mean, I'd known she and Vord were on friendly terms, but I never noticed any romantic vibes between them. The last I'd known, she'd been spending most of her time on her balcony, gazing out at the sea. Illsaide had always liked the sea, she said. Considering his bloodlines, not that big of a shock. But she laughed a little when I asked about her marrying Goldy-locks, and right then she almost sounded like the bubbly Falan who helped me accidentally-on-purpose drop every single one of my history textbooks into the ravine when we were twelve. She told me:
"I don't think I love him, Ishtar. But I do like him, and he can cheer me up when I'm thinking about…you know. I've been teaching him about poetry, all the famous poets. He's terrible at it, and he thinks the whole genre's just nonsense, but he listens to me anyway. And he taught me how to whistle. I could never manage to get my lips to purse the right way before."
I asked her whether she still missed Illsaide. Her face was outright scary then; it was so un-Falan. Every emotion dropped off her features like they'd been burned away with a hot poker, and for a minute she wasn't my cousin I'd had tea parties with when we were nine, she was a stranger who frightened me. I can't quite remember how she looked as a stranger, but I do remember that she looked different than she does as the Falan I know. She glanced out the window of my room, and for a second her eyes were as bottomless as any merpeople's ocean. But then the effect vanished, and all that was left was her bell-chime voice saying from far away, "Illsaide is dead. Vord is alive. I am alive. My mourning is not going to bring him back, Ishtar. C'mon, we need to get you measured for your bridesmaid dress."
I didn't believe her. She didn't believe herself. But I let it go. Belief aside, we both knew it to be the truth. The truth is magic, the truth is the only magic there is.
Duzell's gone. I don't know where he went to. During those last few days, I've catch him just staring at nothing, the way real cats do. Once I asked him if he could see ghosts as a Kyawl, but he gave me the patented feline look that proclaimed, "You're strange-looking, awkward, deaf, dumb, mute, blind, and bewilderingly stupid, and the main reason I put up with you is that you feed me." I didn't think it was worth a repeated bothering, but now I wonder. He never really answered.
And now…he's just not here anymore. One morning, I woke up to find that the warm, furry bundle that was usually curled on the other pillow was absent. I had Krai and Jill (and myself) out searching for three days without any rest at all, and they spent most of it bitterly complaining about the lack of overtime wages. But they did search every corner of Pheliosta, and though they brought in twelve different Kyawl kittens, none of them was my Duzie. I even sent messengers out to the other kingdoms, but no one reported any sign of a Kyawl trying to break into their blood banks. Ha. Just a little bit of attempted humor. I don't do humor that much nowadays.
Occasionally, I do wonder where he went to. All right, more than occasionally. Call it every night, when sleep just avoids me like Krai avoids chores. Speaking of those two, Jill and Krai finally have separate quarters now. They got moved up to head bodyguard after Darres…well, I'd rather not talk about Darres. To my disbelief, Jill actually turned out to be strategically-smart when not screaming like a little five-year-old girl, and Krai can actually be a decent swordsman when he's not pursuing everything in sight that walks on two legs and has boobs. As a team, they're actually able to serve as satisfactory bodyguards, if they focus (which they still has trouble doing). Nothing compared to Darres, of course, but…I'll take what I can get. Somehow in my view, my own safety just isn't that big a priority anymore. Besides, I've learned a little holy magic since Yujinn left. I'm a big girl; I can take care of myself.
Yujinn-no, Yuujel (see, I still forget to call him by his proper name). Ah, his story makes me laugh even now. Who'd have thought it, our local fairy-boy magician turning out to be a prince. Is it just me or does everyone seem to turn out being a prince or princess at some point in this story? He's gone home now, to Zi Alda. To be truthful, I don't really keep in touch with him anymore. But I hope he's doing all right, though hoping never did anyone any good. It's the thought that counts, right? No. Not right. But we'll pretend it is. I'm good at pretending. I guess I'm still a little bitter towards my old magic teacher; it's hard to stand having someone else like a person that you want only for you and you alone. Maybe Darres is in Zi Alda too. The thought makes me sick with laughter if I consider it for too long, mainly because it could be possible. And perhaps that's the main reason I don't write to Yujinn-Yuujel (his name is Yuujel. Must remember): I really don't think I could bear to know.
And of course, we can't forget our two dear, at-least-partially spurious La Naan princes. I wonder about them, too. I do a lot of wondering, now that I'm officially queen. The title's not all it's cracked up to be; mainly a lot of math to make sure that the people I pay to do the kingdom's debts are up to snuff, and deciding when or when not to send out the armies. I try not to wage war when I can avoid it; don't worry, Falan. I haven't forgotten Illsaide any more than you have. They still haven't found anyone within the family for me to marry, but the Pheliosta councils are busting their asses trying, and I'm sure they'll come up with someone within the next year or so. I don't much care anymore; whoever it is won't be the man I've always planned on spending my life with. I suppose the only reason they let me take over the country's official title at all is because of Sir Keld finally getting so senile that he couldn't even remember what room he lived in (he walked in on one of the female cooks while she was undressing. She was not grateful, to say the least). After that, the councils finally took some notice of my protests, and after many "lunches" and "business delays" they finally let me run the show. I smile to myself at how hopeless their quest to preserve the bloodline is, for only I know that the event they await has already happened; quietly, without fuss or grandeur. The greatest happenings often occur that way. I believe that my ancestor knew that, and so I very much doubt that the casting of La Gamme was as dramatic as Sir Keld told it to be when I was younger. I should have asked Duzie how the fight actually went. Should have, would have, could have, all are wasteful words. I did not, so I will never know. But I wish I had.
But I've gotten off track yet again, I'm supposed to be talking about Seiliez and Laphiji. Lady Sonia still refuses to die, but she's getting to be so that she and Sir Keld have a lot in common, so I don't suppose it will be too long now until Seiliez takes over La Naan. I don't know what Laphiji will do then. I don't know whether Seiliez has taken any notice of his "brother's" feelings for him. I just don't know. I'm tired of thinking about it. Too much thinking isn't good for you; it gives you a headache. Just look at Vord; he's about to be king of Ci Xeneth without doing any thinking at all. Now that's what I call a successful career.
And I'm the only one who hasn't changed. Even Jill and Krai have matured (a little bit), even Darres had moved on to bigger and better things (the last time I saw him, anyway) than the scrawny little princess he wasted so many years shielding from her own foolish mistakes. But I'm still like I was three years ago. I'm still pining for him, still sighing at regular intervals and pushing my food around my plate at dinner. I haven't got much of an appetite anymore. I could write a book about it, "Lose Weight the Weeping Way: Guranteed to put you off your food within two dead loved ones or your next beheadment free".
I still make dumb errors and know how foolish they are even as I make them. I still haven't got any idea what it will take to make me happy. I might as well be the poor Falan of three years ago, so unintentionally causing so much strife, or Vord, forever doing the right thing at exactly the wrong time. That fifteen-year-old girl still resides within me, still voices her opinions, yet I can no longer speak her language. So here I am. Wherever "here" may be.
"My queen! It's time for you to greet the guests at the pre-ceremony festival!" It is Jill who calls for me, and I remember my duties. Foolish though I may yet be, I am still Ishtar. Queen Ishtar now, not princess. I have obligations now, to the people I caused so much mischief among before. To the memory of someone loved and gone. Two someones, all the someones. I suppose I owe it to everything, I guess. I don't really know what I mean. Excuse me, I have to serve as bridesmaid for my best friend in a wedding to someone she doesn't love.
You know, I once told Duzie that it didn't matter who the person was, so long as they loved you and you loved them. But that was the fairy-tale Ishtar who told him that, the one who believes in pots-of-gold-at-the-ends-of-rainbows, and happy endings, and things turning out all right in the end so long as you were good and brave. I know better.
In this world, loving someone isn't a good enough reason to marry them.
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Author's Note: I read Volume Six, and sat down at the computer with the intention to write a Duzell point of view after he finds out Illsaide loves Falan. Somehow I wound up with an Ishtar point of view on a parallel universe where Falan and Vord were getting married. Will someone please explain this to me? Anyway, note that I have only read Volumes 1, 3, 4, 5, and 6, so any facts that come in after that have the right to be at best, wildly inaccurate (most were gained from fanfic spoilers). Please review (does anyone pay attention when someone puts "Please Review" on the end of an Author's Note? I doubt it. I don't, anyway).