"Miss Troyard! You look lovelier than ever. Hasn't it been too long?"
"Highness!" Her toolbox clattered over the hanger's steel floor, as Slaine leapt to attention, "Such an honour, to see your Highness again!"
"Nonsense, we're old friends, are we not? And true friendship endures–on my honour!–come what may."
The young prince of the Vers Empire was casually dressed in a white shirt and waistcoat. A halo of corn-gold hair flowed down his neck. Slaine's eye moved from his cheerful smile to his parted top buttons. How could his face seem so soft, and his chest so firm? She was painfully conscious of the muscles harsh training had layered over her slim frame, and the unflattering looseness of her jacket. A strange feeling; attention from any Versian but her Prince was chest -twisting horror.
Blood burning in pale cheeks, she quickly dropped to one knee, hand over her breast. Her hair was clipped back, as per military regulations; ash-blonde wisps still trembled as she lowered her head.
"Your Highness; what do you require of me? I was studying this Sky Carrier's engine…"
"Oh, I've had enough of soldierly matters from Cruhteo. Miss Troyard; allow me to escort you to the viewing deck. I've long wished to gaze upon your wondrous birthplace, at your side."
Asseylum offered Slaine his hand, brought her to her feet. His puppy-bright eyes came so close, she might have fainted, and his scent…across the hanger, other soldiers were whispering. The Prince's small page looked daggers at her, when he was directed to amuse himself for an hour.
"I trust the common soldiers treat you with proper courtesy?" The Prince asked Slaine, as they took a lift down to the viewing deck. She murmured something vague, "Then stay by my side, as much as you can. That should show teach them the respect you deserve. Not only as a precious link between Terra and Vers, but as my precious friend."
-0-
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They had begun like a fairytale. She was lost and drowning. The handsome prince had saved her with his kiss. Brought her to his dusky, vaulted palace, to teach him of flowers and birds. They had shared precious days, as those green, gorgeous eyes drank in all she revealed of her home. He had told her all his dreams of peace with Earth. The stories of chivalry he loved. He said she made him believe he could do anything. He said her white hair looked magical; that the seas of Terra must be as lovely as her eyes. He was her gracious, gentle hero, and he was all she would ever need.
From jealousy as much as prejudice, Versian servants had threatened and taunted her–but why suffer in silence, when her dear prince stood ready for her defence? It was dreadful that one of the maids was sent to an ice-mining settlement in disgrace. But the bullying stopped, and Prince Asseylum promised; in future, he would be her protector. She couldn't even speak to her Daddy about such troubles. She wouldn't, when he barely cared to remember her–or even to feed himself and sleep, however she tried to plead with him.
On a cold planet of barking soldiery and hostile eyes, Prince Asseylum heard her. Something simple as the habits of bees could bring an exquisite smile to his soft, angelic face. He was warmth and life itself to Slaine. She couldn't imagine that he would fail to bring peace to Vers, or fail in anything he meant to do. When her father's death blew the ground from under her feet, the prince had petitioned his Grandfather on her behalf before the funeral's end.
Of course, a Terran girl could not be the prince's tutor forever. The Emperor had referred the matter to his science minister; the elderly Count had found one of his barons willing to take charge of Slaine. The Baron had actually been very willing; he had comforted the young girl at the funeral, and would train her to continue Dr Troyard's unfinished research. Slaine might have preferred to study Botany and Zoology, but would have accepted any vocation gladly from her prince's hand.
For a week, the Baron had treated her well. He took tea with her every evening, gave her lovely dresses and considerable advice about proper feminine manners. Then the evening came when Slaine set down her teacup, raised her eyes, and he was standing above her. Pressing his livid lips to her mouth.
"NO! Mmph...no! No! I'll tell the Prince–!"
"And who would be believed, Terran? A noble of Vers, or some common wench? I'm going to cure you of that pride." Fingers that had pinned her arms clawed away fabric. Skin. Something deeper "Ha! I'd wager the prince wouldn't even recall your name! And what would that whelp even know of this? Ah…mmm…"
"Eeugh…! The Prince does known! I–I taught him this!"
The baron froze. He stared as if Slaine had changed from a girl to a venomous snake under his hands. She stared back, with eyes colder than Arctic seas.
"You…seduced his Highness? You Terran whore, I'll tell him you seduced me, and–!"
"–and he'll believe me. My prince is a romantic, a very passionate boy. He will make your whole clan grub in the dirt, if you lay a finger on his woman. That's me!"
"…if…if you tell him…" The Baron's face was almost purple, and drenched in sweat. Slaine composed her dress, walked away to her quarters, collapsed on silk sheets. Groaning as if her bowels had been ripped away, like innocence and humanity.
Of course it was all lies. Except in breathless daydreams, the Prince had never done more than kiss her hand. They were barely teenagers! But for a Terran girl on Vers, that seemed to be no defence.
A fortnight later, Prince Asseylum invited Slaine back to the palace for tea and a chat–the Baron's expression when he heard was priceless. Slaine sat in silence, dropped the tea things, and truly meant to tell him what had happened. No one else, from the Emperor down, would care to guard a common girl's safety over the nobility's reputation.
But she couldn't. How would he look at her? He would never believe such things could be done by a Versian baron. He scarcely believed that sex existed outside marriage–he was so pure and good!
And she had slandered him with a filthy lie, to save herself. If the rumour spread, it would damage his standing; even his real authority over the 37 Clans. She couldn't meet his shining eyes. She no longer deserved to.
-0-
-0-
By the month's end, the rumour was all over the palace. As soon as Prince Asseylum heard, he rushed to kneel before Slaine.
"Miss Troyard, this is entirely my fault. I've been too familiar, damaged your reputation...I sincerely apologise."
"No! Not for our time together…" Slaine fought for the words in vain, "…nothing could be more precious, Highness! I…"
"Dear Slaine, please don't flatter me," Asseylum gave a rueful smile that turned Slaine's heart to steam, "I clearly have much to learn before I can bring peace between our worlds–that marvellous dream we shared together."
The prince quickly proved that he had much to learn, by an official statement denying any illicit relationship, condemning all rumour-mongers, and forbidding any further slander of 'An innocent maiden, fled for refuge under the wings of Versian honour and gallantry'.
When Slaine was next invited to the palace, the eyes on her were different. Not only contempt, but hatred, from every soul who believed a Terran wench had seduced their Versian prince. When servants answered the prince himself, it was without respect…she fled from the palace, back to the house where she had been assaulted.
The same day, Count Saazbaum advised the Emperor that relocating Miss Troyard, as far from the palace as possible, might be a politic action.
"Out of sight, out of mind, you might say. I believe you leave for Earth orbit this week, Cruhteo? I wouldn't let the girl come to serious harm, though. If the Prince heard of it, he might do something desperate."
"Cruhteo?" Rayregalia wheezed. The blonde Count indicated that he heard and obeyed, then stalked out.
"By the way, Sire," Saazbaum went on, "Regarding the Baron Miss Troyard was placed with. My agents have evidence that he means to pass Aldnoah secrets to Terra. If he were to be accused of insulting the sovereign and stripped of his title, it would avoid any possible embarrassment."
"Very well, Saazbaum. Your advice is sound as always."
-0-
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"Unlike you profligate Terrans, we Versians find a use for our filthiest rubbish. You will be an asset to Vers, ready to give your life for her glory. Or else you will find that your miserable life becomes very unpleasant."
So Private Slaine Troyard found herself an enlisted man of the Vers Imperial Forces. Orbiting earth in a giant metal cylinder, filled to the brim with Versian men. She was terrified at first, but whether due to persistent rumours or Cruhteo's severe view of miscegenation, she was not assaulted again. What she did face was punishment at the least excuse, PT until she puked, and the focused hate of every man and woman in Castle Cruhteo. It was as much a prison as a fortress. Locked up in the airless night, 35,000 miles above the shining world of their enemy, they fell on the Terran girl like cats that kill their food by inches.
From Cruhteo down, every officer in the Castle found a reason to hit her. She had to stand for hours in the Castle's unheated sections, clean floors with the Third-class serfs, and take insults whispered from every corner or screamed in her face. Her intimate habits…her smell…her parentage…and the one they only spoke with their eyes.
The prince's Terran whore. Her lie. She had no strength to resist. It was the punishment she deserved.
The other female soldiers had the most venomous words. On the worst day, someone emptied her box of sanitary pads, and she had to stand through reveille with blood dripping from her crotch. As Cruhteo wrinkled his nose, and her rank fought down laughter, Slaine had felt something in her eyes go hard and dull.
"Are you some kind of filthy animal, Troyard?" Her sergeant bawled, "Are you a worthless Terran dog? Well?"
"Yes, sir! I am…a worthless Terran dog. But for the honour of Vers, I will do better!"
The sergeant punched her in the stomach. She had bent up, then straightened back to attention, staring him in the face. Cruhteo raised an eyebrow.
Then the unit proceeded with reveille, and the morning floggings; three soldiers for various infractions. As always, Count Cruhteo watched them all. Afterwards, he assigned Slaine private quarters in a store cupboard, and had the pad thief uncovered and lashed.
Because they themselves couldn't endure, Slaine understood, the soldiers treated her so cruelly. Cruhteo was strict, but honourable, and his bearing was a lion's. She found herself dreaming of his strong face, beside her Prince's caring eyes, through the lonely nights in her sleeping bag. She would stare at her Father's pendant–all that remained of his hopes. Remember her brilliant Daddy, her shining Prince, and how unworthy of them she had been.
No more fairytale. No one would save her. She did not deserve to be saved. But she could not be weak. For the Prince who had smiled for her, sheltered a homeless helpless girl, she would not be worthless. For her one lost angel, she would survive. Living day by day, on the smile that burnt in her heart.
As the years passed, she learned self-defence, pistol and rifle shooting; even how to repair and pilot a Sky Carrier. The thought of soaring through clear skies like an eagle stirred her heart from misery (even if she would never glide in her Prince's arms over a dance floor, with soaring heart). She had to sneak onto the simulator in sleeping hours, but when Cruhteo saw her grades he approved her for pilot training.
"It seems you might become more than rubbish, Troyard. However–it will be your loyalty to our glorious kingdom, not your skills, that truly determine the issue."
"Yes, my lord!" Slaine bowed, with one hand above her soaring heart.
The next time he slapped her, it hurt twice as much; she groaned, but did not cry out.
She would survive, because chivalry and love were not dead. Had been shown even to her, by the prince of Vers–once upon a time. So she would endure. A soldier serving in his army, with a heart full of love. She might never have deserved a protecting prince, but she would make herself strong, until she needed no protection. Until neither words, eyes or fists could give any pain that she could feel.
And one day, even if it took her life, she might serve her Prince. If not as his friend, his devoted servant. One day, she might gaze upon his smile again, without shame.
And that day came, two years later. To be called his friend was wonderful…even if he remained innocent of her lie. Knew nothing of her wretched weakness. As the prince gazed down on the Earth, smiling like a golden puppy, Slaine found a little smile on her lips. When he had gone, Cruhteo seized her by the neck.
"Will you never learn your place, Terran? Still, if you must consort with his Highness...use your influence to dissuade him from travelling to Earth."
"Influence, my Lord?" The Count backhanded her to the carpet.
"Don't make me say the words."
It was the only order Slaine disobeyed. How could she discourage her prince from the noble dream of his life? She gave him her father's pendant–the prayers of peace that were all she had to give. Watched his ship descend to Earth, with parting tears.
Days later, she stood in Shinawara centre. Looked on the spot where a missile had blown his life out.
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Baron Trillram had been given a free choice of Cruhteo's pilots, and had chosen Slaine. Apart from the chance to kill her former countrymen before her, he had a stare that made her flesh crawl and her breathing go manic. He had probably hoped to end his mission by dragging Slaine into some ruin, and enjoying her as a kind of side-dish to treacherous murder.
Of course, it hardly turned out like that. Shooting him down felt so good it scared her. Hours later, Slaine sat in her cupboard, staring at the gun in both her hands. She felt emptied. Strong. Her prince was alive, she had never needed him so much…she had no idea what she might do next.
"My prince. How can I find you again? Before it's too late for us…"