It was strange Sophia thought, how when one person fell out of her life someone else was always there to fill the void - like partners in a long strange dance.
She knew even as a very young child that she was a lucky person, a wealthy and fortunate person, but often loneliness consumed her. She wasn't certain if it was because she was the Emperor's only daughter, or some subtle defect that she could not identify by just looking in the mirror.
Her mother's death was in no way her fault. She knew this. Yet at the age of five she had already resolved that if only she had loved her mother more, been able to pray harder, her mother would have survived that final doomed and fruitless pregnancy. Her father scarcely had acknowledged her before the funeral. Now she was utterly ignored. Her mother and stillborn brother were laid to rest on what must have been the driest hottest day of the year. Her tears evaporated as soon as they were shed and she was left with nothing but the salt.
Soon after, the Bassanius family came to live in the palace. They, along with a number of other Guild refugees infused a liveliness into the wide, cold halls that she hadn't known she was missing.
Her Uncle Marius was a jovial, pleasant man. Unlike her father, he enjoyed being surrounded by people, throwing fetes for his friends and celebrating the seasonal festivals to their fullest. If not for Marius and his blithe daughter Euris, Sophia would never have learned to dance. Or more accurately, to enjoy dancing, as she was already receiving formal lessons.
She often thought back to those days, before Euris disappeared, as some of the happiest of her young life. Even as her father's war engine continued its escalation and the land around them grew drier, the people more desperate, she was dancing. She was laughing and playing the tambourine in her uncle's parlor while her cousin played the flute. Sophia and Euris looked and acted like sisters it was noted by many others, and often Sophia wished it were true.
In the year that Sophia turned nine, Euris told her over an intense game of chess, that it was her hope that the war would end soon. That she didn't want Sophia's life to be dominated by war, that she hoped the chess matches she played as an adult wouldn't involve real people dying. Neither Marius nor his daughter said anything bad about her father to her face. However, she began to feel the tensions between house Bassanius and Forrester when her father didn't attend Euris' engagement party.
The dancing had still been spirited and full of joy, even overshadowed by the knowledge that the Emperor's blessing was lacking. Sophia wore the fine gown she'd had made for the occasion, and ignoring her father's silent disapproval, kicked and hopped and laughed and twirled with the best of them.
She doubted Euris could have been more in love – and Alex was the sort of person who inspired adoration in everyone he met. He did everything well, had the sort of presence that shifted the entire attention of a room upon him when he entered. To watch them dance together, she'd thought at the time, nothing in the universe could ever sever the bond between those two, no match could be more perfect.
Such were a little girl's fancies.
One month later Euris was gone, and Marius' parlor was quiet. Sophia knew in her heart that something was deeply wrong. Seeing her uncle stare out the window for long periods at nothing. Pigeons arriving with messages that were quickly read and burned soon after. Then Marius began subtly teaching her about politics, about the nature of the Guild and his theories on how to attain peace. Sometimes, at first, he accidentally called her by his daughter's name.
She didn't understand until much later, how much effort he'd put into protecting her. Guiding her away from her father's hawkish ideals, and from her father's co-conspirators - any one of whom could have seduced her and made a quick jump to the throne. Once Euris was lost to him, every shred of his hope for the future had shifted onto her small shoulders.
It wasn't until Sophia was fourteen that she remembered she could dance. Her first year in the Academy was utterly dull. Much of what was being taught included lessons she had learned at a much younger age. She was constantly looking for diversions, but the regimented life of a young officer offered little. The Spring Festival came with scant rain to bless it, and several of her classmates decided to make a sojourn to the nearest temple. She went along out of boredom more than anything else.
They went in, offered up their prayers and sacrifices and on the way back, one of the girls produced a bottle of wine. The five of them found a place off the side of the road to rest and try to unwind a little. Sophia didn't drink much, but once it became evident that they weren't going to make it back to the Academy dorms before sunset, she let her hair down. Then she began teaching the other girls a folk dance Euris had taught her not long after they'd first met. It was supposed to bring rain.
Sophia fell asleep under the stars with her comrades, and in the morning when they returned, they were punished by being confined to the Academy grounds for two months. She felt vindicated when it rained for the next three days straight.
As she matured, Sophia imagined that the rhythms and movements of politics and warfare really weren't so different from the measured movements of different dances. Life on board the vessel where she was trained in command, was simplified by keeping this in mind. Everyone had their place, their role to play, each their own steps to take in the daily waltz.
It was a beautiful thing to observe when they managed to pull it off smoothly. She no longer was dancing with her feet, but instead orchestrated the maneuvers and the players in her mind. The patterns and reels that constantly threatened to spin out of control, she had to master and rein in. Framing combat in the more pleasant activity kept her interested and kept her sane, and oddly enough, made her a fearsome opponent.
Marius was always glad to hear in her letters to him, that she'd found ways to offset the strict and sometimes bleak nature of her life in the military. He thought that warfare suited her poorly, that she was by nature a gentle, playful person.
Sophia wondered at his assessment of her. She certainly had no trouble giving the order to fire on her enemies in the simulations. This didn't change when she was briefly given a commission on Captain Alzey's ship. She was eighteen then. At her command, men and women were blown to bits or fell screaming to their deaths as the Disith vessel broke apart before her eyes.
If she hadn't fully understood Marius' philosophy, his wishes before, they became painfully clear on that day. Her orders were more measured, more thoughtful once she could feel the weight of all the human lives that hung in the balance with every word.
The first real assignment her father gave her, Sophia nearly refused. The Silvana was infamous for its destructive capabilities and the ability to slink in and out of a fight unharmed. There was something unchivalrous about it, but the opportunity was too interesting to pass up.
Meeting her new captain had been a shock. She had never thought to see Alex Row again, hadn't even realized he yet lived. He, like she, had learned exceptional restraint, but behind those shadowed eyes was a driven and vengeful man. She knew immediately that he wasn't over Euris; he danced alone with her ghost every waking day and restless night. It was painful to watch.
For a long time after he was gone, she felt that his loneliness could have answered hers. Perhaps though, his inability to forgive himself, was what allowed her to let go of her own crushing and purposeless guilt. She was still alone. Marius was dead too and even if the Silvana felt like home, its crew her family, she couldn't stay on the ship forever.
When she finally chose her consort, Sophia had been Empress for seven years. It was a political marriage, finalizing the union between Anatoray and Disith. Friedrich was of the Disith nobility, and had been on the panel of negotiators when the peace treaty between their nations was finalized. He wasn't too young nor too old, he was handsome enough, she supposed. More importantly, she admired and respected him and felt her ministers found him bearable to work with.
Three factors had firmed her decision, however. First, was the fact that he knew his way around an airship. Second, was that he had a sense of humor. Third, and above all, every time they met he showed her a new dance.