Lazy-Potato-101: Thanks!
amgs: that's super sweet of you to say, omg! Her past lives are definitely going to affect how she interacts with people, and there's no way this girl is going to let ruling stay a boys club! I'll definitely be going more into her past lives, but not for a while yet ^^
Mary D. Black2000 : Thanks!
Loudine was the picture what a Malory Queen should be. She was beautiful and graceful, deferred to her husband in all matters. It was no surprise that she had been chosen as a match for the King of Carleon. She reminded her eldest child of a doe. She was beautiful and graceful, but she ran in the face of danger. If not physically, then mentally.
Athanasia had never seen Albion, who was her father no longer, raise a hand to Loudine, but she knew the sting of his hand now and while Athanasia was a vicious blade sheathed in cashmere Loudine did not have millennia of memory to lend her strength and knowledge. She did not have, and never had had, a society that would give her power over herself. Neither of them did, and Loudine did not have the burning rage or the raw ambition to push her into taking that power from those who did have it.
She did not have it in her to protect her children in a direct confrontation.
Athanasia had seen it the day Albion slapped her. She had seen the horror in her mother's eyes, but she recognized her earlier appeasement for what it was, in hindsight. An attempt to spare her daughter pain, and direct her away from perceived hardship.
It was for this reason and this reason alone that she took Clarine into the Queen's private chambers one a day where her husband was out observing beds of Ground Sloths on Eildon.
The pair slipped in, leaving Galatyn behind with Gorlois, his soon-to-be Training Master when the Prince began his path to becoming a Cavalier, the first Great King to hold the title in four generations.
Clarine, who was indeed much taller than 'Ganieda' these days, gripped her sister's hand tightly. Athanasia didn't shake her off or pull away. Clarine had every right be afraid, after what they had learned the week before.
Loudine was sitting in a straight backed chair, for once devoid of the attendants that tended to flock around her. Her long, canary dress pooled around her heels while her hair was piled high, braided above her delicately cut circlet.
Carleon did not its own central gem the way the other fifteen members of the Malory Isles did. Instead the crown of the King and Queen had Gypsum, selenite in particular, inlaid into the double helix that raced around the circlets. The Kings ended in an apple blossom. The queens, in diamond, both made of the same inlaid stone. How it was done, Athanasia did not know. One of the few things she had never been was jeweler.
Her fellow had been born to a family of jewelers in their beginning, but she would shoot herself in the foot before she asked him for anything. `
When Loudine saw her children she smiled and held out her arm, thin fingers slid from fluid cashmere and the massive bell sleeves that were traditional to noble women. The longer the sleeves, the more one was worth, or so Athanasia had observed.
The eldest daughter took her mother's hand with her free on and pulled her sister closer. Clarine had taken to Albion in height and in the stubborn set of her jaw, while 'Ganieda' doubted she would ever surpass either parent in height.
"What are you girls doing in here today?" the queen asked, her voice soft, "The sun is so bright. Why not go play in it?"
It was true that they didn't have any lessons today. They could have gone running in the forest or swimming in the ocean, Galatyn trying to keep up. They could have raced across the open fields that dotted the landscape, leapt atop the pigmy elephants that farmers kept where pony's thin legs were more risk than help. They could have skipped stones in the hot springs that pooled around the mountain.
Instead, they stood before their mother with words in their mouths that neither could speak.
Finally, Clarine reached over to the jug of water that sat away from the queens dress hem. She poked it, and all the water inside froze solid. Frost laced across the outside.
Athanasia looked straight at her mother, watched her eyes grow wide and her breath come to a halt. The hand in her started shaking before it stilled and gripped her tightly.
For the first time in her memory Athanasia saw the queen sink down, onto the floor, to pull her daughters into the folds of her massive sleeves. The cloth fell across them, thin and long, obscuring both from view. A wall. A protection.
"My girls," she whispered, so quiet the wind wouldn't hear her. "My beautiful daughters. Fate has been cruel to us."
Athanasia turned her face into her mother's shoulder. Fate had nothing to do with her condition. Fate had no say in what became of her. It was not Fate that dictated her pains. It was Karma, and the Gods of the Afterlife.
"You must not tell your father," she went on, "No one can know, little Clarine. No one can know what we are."
A beat before Athanasia drew back to stare at Loudine, her soft eyes and her sad smile.
'We'.
They three. Magicians.
Athanasia wasn't expecting to find a foreign ship in port. In fact, it was nearly unheard of to find one. The Malory Isles were largely self reliant, and almost totally cut off from the outside world. They did not deal with outsiders beyond what was absolutely necessary, and what diplomacy was performed happened off their sandy shores.
She was thirteen within this life and this was the first time she had ever seen a ship that did not fly the colors of her people. Gold, green, and a pale cream. An apple blossom was plastered across a gold background, with green leaves stretching out on either side.
This ship was massive. It was no skiff to carry small groups from one island to the next. No dory that brought home fish. Not even a massive barge that carried goods about.
No, no, no. This was a massive boat. A trader's ship with sails as blue as the ocean itself and a hull larger than any others it passed when it came into the Carleon docks.
The ships of the Malory Isles were used mostly to transport foods, textiles, citizens and slaves, and with the distance between one island and the next there was no need for them too be as massive that one that had just come into port.
Even their military ships were smaller, but given that her country ventured into the outside world less often than the moon eclipsed the sun, there was no need for their to be massive sailing vessels for war. What the Malory Navy possessed was speed and swiftness, and gunpowder.
So to see a ship like this was certainly out of the question. There was no one reason she could think of for someone to be there. They had no alliances with countries outside there own. Partially because of the distrust and hatred of magic and partially because they did not need them. The Malory Isles were almost entirely self sufficient. The only time someone came to call on them were in times of plague.
The men that she watched step off the ships were strange, to be sure, but they were not sick. Not the blue man, or the three teenage boys who walked in the lead.
Their cheeks were not shallow, their skin was unsallowed, and their eyes were wide with wonder but not bloodshot. So why, she wondered, were they there?
"Don't," she warned without looking. Galatyn stopped short, one foot off the ground, and looked over at his sister, pouting.
"But 'Neida," he whined, "I just wanna look at the ship."
"Gal, you know you'll get scolded if you go over there," she reminded him.
"Not if you go with me," he shot her a pleading look, all big brown eyes and sad, baby cheeks.
Athanasia sighed. He wouldn't get yelled at if he went over with her, because she was the one responsible for him and so she would be the one scolded. Not that she gave two shits was Albion said about propriety.
"We should go back and fetch their Grace," Sebille interjected, "they need to be notified. You know this, Ganieda."
"Stop being such a worry wart," Clarine scolded their nurse. She was already halfway down the street without any of them noticing. Sebille made a horrified sound in the back of her mouth and ran after the long legged girl.
"Princess! Come back, please!" she called.
Galatyn was still looking at her. He looked like he was going to die if she kept him from the outsiders.
"Go," she pointed ahead of them, to the outsiders down the road from where they had been inspecting a new sweets shop. Now it was forgotten in the excitement of something new. Children knew little fear, Galatyn least of all.
And so he ran, face bright and eyes alight. Curious as a cat with a death wish.
Athanasia handed a silver coin to the poor, confused boy behind the counter of the shop and took a bag full of hard honey candies. And with that bag tucked into one of her wide sleeves, not as wide as they were at formal events, she turned and ran after her brother and sister.
The dress she wore outside of the castle was short enough to let her legs out, enough not to hinder her at all, and so when she ran after her brother and sister it was easy to catch up. Unengaged, her hair swept back behind her in the wind.
It twisted and fell around her cheeks when she came skidding to a stop, her hard wooden sandles digging into the docs next to Sebille.
Galatyn had already ambushed the traveller with the most metal on his person, a ginger boy in armor, and was circling him like a shark. The young man, who looked to be carrying a lance of all things, tried to turn to follow him but Galatyn was much to excited to be kept up with. His words were even a garble of their native tongue pronounced beyond what even a local would know.
So it was to no surprise that the poor armored boy appeared totally lost.
"Pardon me," Athanasia began, drawing eyes to her, "but, what are you doing here?"
When they stared at her blankly she tried again in an older tongue that her tutor insist she learn. Still nothing.
A hand touched hers and Athanasia glanced to its owner as her fingers were brought to soft lips. A charming smile filled with sunlight touched her skin and violet braids withheld hair from framing a pretty face.
When he spoke it was in a language she hardly recognized, but one she knew.
For most people linguist evolutions were almost impossible to predict to control. Things changed with the time, with needs, and adapted to different generations, added languages, and new teachings.
For someone as old as Athanasia, for someone who had witnessed so many worlds change and so many languages develop and blossom from their roots, it was all too easy to catch onto.
And so, with a rough accent and broken congregations she repeated her question, and delicately removed her hand from the new comers.
"We are merchants," the purple boy declared, "Journeying the atlas for aliens and probabilities."
….or maybe she wasn't as good as she thought.
"Sebille," Athanasia looked at her nurse, "Would you please fetch Igerna?"
Sebille balked, drawing up. "The slave girl?" she sounded incredulous.
"She was a gift to the king from a traveller, if you recall. She might speak the language of these strangers," Athanasia explained, gesturing vaguely.
"We should tell the king of these intruders, not fetch shackled translators," Sebille argued.
Athanasia frowned at her. She hated ordering people about, Sebille most of all, but Albion would send these men on their way before Galatyn had even gotten to have a single question of his answered. And, Athanasia wanted to know of the rest of the world too.
"Please, Sebille?" she inquired instead of demanding.
Galatyn appeared at her side and said, "Please, stable?" He was still working on talking.
"Pretty please, Sebille?" Clarine added, poking her head above both of theirs.
The nurse's face fell and she looked hesitant, conflicted, but she did nod and turn to leave. Back the long road to the palace. Once she was gone from sight Athanasia pointed to an opposing road, one that lead out of town and away from where the Cavaliers were no doubt advancing from, intent on interrogating or driving off these curious visitors. For Galatyn's sake, and also her own, she would allow no such thing to occur.
"Follow," she said, and hoped it meant what she thought it did. Even if it didn't the gesture she gave with her hand convinced them of her intention and the trio trailed after her. She wasn't worried about Sebille finding them. The woman knew all of their usual spots, including the one they ventured to that day.
It was a cove, small and guarded well by the curves of the land. Sloths roamed the trees that hid it from the rest of the island and silver fish darted in the shallow water. There was not enough depth for a ship to get in, and a canoe would be hard pressed to hold enough people to be a threat to her and her siblings.
So they gathered there, taking these strangers with them.
The first thing she did upon entering the privacy of their cove, which they called Fan for it's shape, was hold a hand to her chest.
"Ganieda," she said, before pointing to her brother and sister in turn, "Galatyn, Clarine." She pointed to the land under their feet. "We live on Carleon, in the Malory isles."
The violet haired boy grinned at them and slapped his own chest. "Sinbad! And there are Ja'far, Hinahoho, and Mystras. It's a horror to melt you!"
Athanasia hoped that Sebille arrived soon, or this was going to be a very long, very confusing conversation.
"Carleon, of Malory?" one of the other boys, a cute child with white hair and freckles, scrunched up his nose in confusion. Athanasia supposed she had said it wrong. She dropped to her knees and stuck a finger in the sand, so she could draw a picture of their little chain of islands.
She pointed to the biggest one and said, "Carleon," before patting the ground beside her. Then circled the whole chain and said, "Malory," and swung her arm around towards the other islands. Only Eildon and Huel were visible, but they must have understood, for Sinbad's face lit up like a lighted candle.
He was quite the handsome young man. She could see his charm working on other ladies, but there was something about him that told her to keep a distance. Not a danger, not a feeling of foreboding, but a warmth. Like a pot on a stove not yet boiling.
An interesting boy. She would have to keep an eye on him.