Author's Note: Hello, everyone! :) I can't believe we are finally at the end of summer. Seemed like forever to me! I am anxious for fall; time for pumpkins, chai teas, infinity scarves, scary stories, and hopefully, more time to write! :)
Thank you all, for another time, for waiting patiently for the next installment. This chapter had been worked on scene by scene since chapter seven's publication. I don't have a good excuse for why this took so long to post, other than life's usual mishaps, and that this chapter had been scrapped and redone at least twice. lol
I would also like to give another big shoutout to MrsTolan! Thank you, as always, for your kind reviews and support! It means a lot to hear that this story has brought you some comfort during a difficult stage in your pregnancy (though I am so sorry to hear you were sent to the hospital). I hope you are feeling much better! I would also like to say congratulations to the birth of your son and sincerely wish you all the best health and happiness! :)
Now, onto chapter eight! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: The Slayers © Hajime Kanzaka, Funimation, and J.C. Staff. Any original characters belong to me.
Troubled Waters
Chapter 8
Fortuity
One week became two weeks and so, September days faded, and October rang in.
Autumn had arrived.
With Vonzelle at the helm, preparations went beyond their usual level of expectations. Impeccable could not begin to describe the new state of the castle corridors. No. Transcendent suited it dutifully. The new state of the palace was imaginable to what its former self looked like before the first royals made their home.
Knuckle-white hands and aching feet slaved from the kiss of sunlight to blackness of night. Candles had exhausted themselves of wax and lighting spells grew dimmer like their beings' energy. The floors shone slick like river stones, mirrors glistened like ice, and long unoccupied guest rooms were freed of unwanted houseguests of cobwebs and dust bunnies bundled in the ceiling and floor corners. Not to mention, each of the suitor's private guest rooms was refreshed with new linen bed sheets, complimentary linen towels, olive oil soap, and dried rosemary sachets tucked into empty awaiting drawers. At the end of each grueling day, gripes and moans consoled in unison. Philionel, and even his father and his father before him, had never taken severe diligence in pristine or, more so, obsessive housekeeping.
Every scrub, scrape, sweep, and shuffle carried a melody of diligence and mania that rang of the suitors' impending arrival. It was any wonder that the palace staff had yet to break out into a full-fledged musical. Those on the bottom floor being the thundering altos and those, high above in the towers, the shrieking sopranos. If their golden-tongued chaos vocalized, the chorus would sound something like: The suitors are coming, the princess will marry, the suitors are coming, the city is merry— Time to throw a ball!
The arrangements for the suitors and the ball kept Phil's time occupied. From the kitchen to the courtyard he followed behind his short yet dominating mother-in-law, canvasing over every single detail. Signature dishes of the suitor's countries were made and sampled. When standards failed to be met between aged lips, portions that would feed families were well, given to families. Perfectly good sweet potatoes, pumpkins, squash, and roasted quail did not deserve to be wasted in Phil's eye. His mother-in-law may have believed the compost was a worthy final resting place for 'flawed' flavors, but he conceded that struggling families would careless of the slightest runny texture or overindulgence in spices. Though his input was considered far and few in between her opinions, the least he could assert was to ensure his people were given free meals.
Amelia, on the other hand, had little to no input and certainly no assertion. After the debacle in the Solar, Vonzelle kept her on edge through mental manipulation of short, curt, and indignant replies. If the princess's back and shoulders were not restrained from leaning forward during a refresher on table etiquette, an unseemingly innocent weapon known as a tape measure, at the hands of the royal dressmaker, was pressed down onto her abundant bust. Amelia had lost count on the hours spent enslaved as her grandmother's doll, listening to rules of manners in which she already knew and blasé conversations to practice about the weather and good health. And if she wasn't being forced to play dress up, she was either whisked away into the legislative chambers or drowning in paperwork. When the night air blew into her patio doors, she checked off another grueling day on her almanac and crashed into her downy pillows. And each time, the sun always came up too soon.
The day before the suitors' arrival, against the setting sun, Amelia and Phil strolled the orange leaf-littered path of the garden. It had been days since the father-daughter duo had a moment of privacy and the princess longed for a presence of peace.
A swish of wind nibbled and teased Amelia's skin. She drew her coat close to her chest, hands shoving themselves down in deep wooly pockets. There, her righthand fingers felt a piece of parchment, a reminder of her other dilemma. In recent days, she received a letter from Prince Derek. His impending efforts to court her left the unresolved matter of the land dispute a sizeable test than she initially believed. She tried to drown out her imploding fears at the crackle of decaying leaves crunching under her heels, but the texture of the parchment commenced an echoing of its words.
Her Royal Highness, The Princess of Seyruun
Madam,
Despite my amiable intentions of courtship, hope still stands in which Ralteague and Seyruun may come to an agreement regarding the division of disputed land. I would be most obliged to have a private audience with you to discuss the matter in full. Crown Prince Philionel has informed me of your plans and to reach a peaceful and unified decision, I request that I may hear your intentions regarding the development of the land. I assert this with the best interest of both our countries in mind.
I will be arriving on the thirty-first of October, twelve o'clock sharp as instructed by his royal majesty. Upon my arrival, you may select a time in which such a meeting can take place. Until then, I look forward to the intended luncheon and proceedings of the ball.
Your Highness's most humble and obedient servant,
Prince Derek of Ralteague
Initially, she read the letter over once, then twice, then finally, for the third time. Between the lines, Amelia searched for a telling. She recognized a sense of both carefulness and tactfulness in his vocabulary. Polite but evident assertion. The land dispute remained front and center while the courtship an afterthought. If anything, she read of disinterest. Perhaps if she could settle on the division of land, it would be enough for him to leave on his own accord. It sounded like that would be all it would take. As for the other suitors… well, she would have to figure them out along the way.
"I thought a little fresh air might do us both some good before our guests arrive," Phil said, his arm looped around hers. "You've been cooped up with Miss Lina and the others in the library for days now."
Amelia broke from her stupor at her father's observation. "Oh, that?" she blinked, eyes straying away from the pathway. "We're just doing some— research."
"You don't have to explain anything to me, Amelia," he said with a wink. "But if you intend on hiding from your grandmother, I suggest somewhere less accessible to her."
"Oh, we weren't trying to hide from her," she clarified quickly. "And anyway, I've got too much on my mind right now to worry about what she thinks."
Though they had changed their location of 'research' that week… just in case the marchioness's peeping eyes became too curious for their own good.
Phil paused, halting both sets of feet. He took in the change in his daughter's eyes, the cadence of her tone. His normally bombastic voice softened. "Amelia, I know this suitor business isn't exactly what you had in mind— but I do hope you understand where your grandmother is coming from. And well, me I suppose."
As Amelia fell quiet, the pathway became the preferred spot to stare. Her anxiety transferred onto him, following with a firm reassuring pat against her hand.
"You know, you might enjoy the suitors' company," Phil continued with an encouraging smile. "If anything, you could get their opinions on the big stuff. What's important to you."
Amelia sighed half-heartedly. They regained their steps. "I suppose so. It's a little daunting not knowing what to expect. I mean, I don't know any of them." It would have been nice to have prior knowledge of their personalities, so she could have mentally prepared herself.
Phil peered down at her with a shake of his head. "That's not entirely true. You know Prince Derek."
Another sigh fell. "A letter is—"
"I meant you've met him before."
Amelia's eyebrows creased as she looked to her father. "When? I don't remember."
"He and his family visited our castle quite some time ago. It was... Hmm." He paused for a moment, stroking his chin as he lamented. "I don't know. When you were about four... or five."
Amelia gaped. "You want a man to court me who I haven't seen since I was four or five? How old was he?"
"Oh, ten. Eleven."
She dove into the deepest recesses of her memory of this long-lost visit. There, she found a faint obscure vision of a visiting king who occupied her father's time greatly and a queen who took her luncheons with her mother on the terrace of a castle level. Then, she recalled an older, much taller, much stronger boy, young man to be precise, who dove nose-first into the grass, walloped by her older sister for God knows what. Regardless, he probably deserved it. But a boy, oh, ten or eleven… She remembered crying. Crying among a pile of fallen sepia feathers. And then, her tears, dripping nose, and whimpers were swept away by sweet-scented handpicked flowers. A gesture of condolences perhaps? From the royal gardens! Amelia felt a rush of excitement from the recollection. Could it have been from him? She closed her eyes in hopes of conjuring a recognizable face. Alas, she couldn't find one.
"What was he like?" Amelia finally asked. "Then I mean."
"He was a very nice boy. Quiet, well mannered, but inquisitive. I remember he loved to explore the garden— particularly the fishpond we had," he added with a light chuckle.
Amelia smiled at the retelling of youthful innocence. "And now?" she broached.
"He's very— determined."
Her brightened expression dimmed with slumped shoulders and darkened eyes. She blamed herself for carrying an ounce of hope, only for it to be desecrated by the influential corruption of age. What was the use? She already decided she wouldn't love the prince or any of the other bachelors. But for someone who conceived joy in the smallest of things, who sought for light despite the darkest of times, found herself exhausted and now frustrated that she could not pull herself away from the raincloud that had been stalking her the last month. Somehow, someway, Amelia wished to recognize the silver lining in all of this.
Phil's hand rested and rubbed his daughter's shoulder with familial ease. "Don't feel down, kumquat. I'm sure everything will go over just fine!" he said, egging her to proceed with their stroll. "Besides, Prince Derek isn't the only one you'll get to meet. Someone else could easily suit your fancy. You know, I was a little nervous myself when your mother came to visit for the first time."
Amelia perked. "You were?"
"Very much. So much that I came in with my clothes on inside out! Hahaha!" he laughed at his own memory of discomfiture. "But your mother could have cared less! When she smiled at me, right at that moment, I knew she was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with."
A smile made falling in love sound so simple. Falling in love with the chosen ideal political candidate made life seem like a breeze. Fate may have been on her parents' side, but it had yet to shine its blessing rays onto the princess.
"I don't think it'll be that easy for me," she confessed, her voice lacking strength.
Phil lowered his eyebrows, holding back a heavy tired sigh. "Amelia, please do try to make the best of it," he urged. "A heart of a hero must strive even through the toughest of battles! You'll see when they get here. It won't be so bad. And if you need anything, you know I'll be right there the entire time."
His large fingers captured her small chin, swiveling her gaze to meet his. He witnessed the cloudiness in her eyes. In that moment, Phil wished he could sweep all his precious daughter's grievances away. That the fairytales he told her before bedtime could come true and that princesses could marry whomever they wished. But reality was far from kind. Orchestrating a leading nation, one that brought peace to its people and neighboring countries, could not be compromised. Even if it meant personal sacrifice for all.
Phil held onto his daughter's chin, not ready to fully shatter her sheltered world. Instead, he offered her a different truth.
"Why with your genuinely kind heart and your mother's smile, I don't see how someone couldn't love you."
The library proved to be less than private quarters.
Acknowledging the pattern of a cane hitting the floor outside the library doors during specific hours of the day, Lina's vulpine nature led them back to Zelgadis's rooms. No one ever entered, aside from his personal servant, Ernoldous, who attended only to his duties and never conversed in frivolous discussion. Not only that, but it was a place in which Vonzelle would never look. The last thing any of them wanted, was for the shrewd old woman to take interest in the peculiar draw a book had among four young adults.
Lina had stopped counting the hours (or more so lost count) spent examining the book's collection of poems. As Amelia's time was monopolized, the reading was conducted by Lina and Zelgadis, with Gourry's assistance whenever he proved useful.
That evening, they were on the eighth poem of the day and hope had yet to shine a light through their translucent efforts.
Reprieving her dreary eyes and splitting head, Lina situated herself atop Zelgadis's scant pillows, reclining at the head of his bed. Zelgadis sat in his exceptionally hard wooden chair, concentrating solely on the book. At all times, he kept a stack of parchment. Lines of selected words and inky scribbles covered several pages, and when they proved to be of little use, they became crumpled balls heading straight into his trash bin. Concentrating, he tapped the head of the feather close to his lips, the tip of the feather fluttering below his nose. Gourry watched from the sides, mesmerized. Then, out of fixation, conjured the urge to sneeze.
A platter of grapes, brie cheese, and wheat crackers sat on Zelgadis's nightstand, which Lina requested a servant to bring. If they were going to be locked up working into the evening hours, then decent brain food was a top priority.
"Did you see all the decorations in the ballroom? And better yet, the food in the kitchens?" Lina said, popping a red grape into her mouth. Food always did its wonders when it came to tensions of the mind.
Zelgadis didn't respond, still focused on the task at hand.
Gourry beamed up at the sorceress. "I didn't see the food, but I could smell it down the hall."
"It was agonizing to sit and watch Phil and Amelia's grandma sample it," Lina said, chewing another handful of grapes. She swallowed. "They didn't even have the decency to offer any to me. I mean, we're part of the guest list after all! It wouldn't have hurt to have an exclusive sneak peek if they were after honest feedback."
"If you sampled, then there would be nothing left for anyone else to try," Zelgadis remarked, his eyes narrowing in on a selection of keywords.
Lina sat up and scowled. "Don't be smart. If I'm looking forward to anything about this ball, it's the food and the dress. If the Seyruun royal family is picking up the tab for me to get a gown of my own, then I can't complain."
Zelgadis held back a snort. Yes, Lina would have a dress of her own. Never mind, he thought, on what other occasions would she have to wear such an expensive garment. When he thought about the said garment, he closed his eyes and shuttered. "Please tell me you didn't choose green… or pink."
She narrowed in on the back of his head. "Since when are you a fashionista?"
"I'm not," he answered, matching the strength of her indignant tone. "But I do know a thing or two about complementary colors."
"Well, relax," she snapped. "Amelia said she's wearing pink and I'm not stupid enough to choose green. I mean, the last thing I want to look like is a leprechaun or something."
"So, what did you choose?" Gourry asked.
"That's a surprise!" she winked with a playful grin.
With a bounce, Lina bounded over to Zelgadis. Leaning over his stiff shoulder, she examined the contents of his writings. It looked promising.
"So, ya figured anything out yet, Zel?" she asked.
"Perhaps." He picked up the parchment, holding it at eye level as he adjusted his throat. "How does this sound? By night the darkness calls, by day the sunlight listens. Oh, eternal abyss, grant me the strength and wisdom within the bosom of your secrets. Make your power known here and now," he said, reading the lines as if he was reciting an incantation.
"Bosom? That sounds worse than the last one," Gourry commented, flicking a long glistening peacock feather above a dazzled Gingersnap's head.
The parchment wrinkled under Zelgadis's strong gripped fist. "I don't see anyone else trying. It's not that easy to dissect spells with nothing to go from," he griped, tossing the scribbled paper aside. He needn't been told it was gobbledygook.
He collapsed his stony check against his equally stony hand, staring out into the darkening gardens. Lina studied the back of his head. She had seen him do this before. The gloomy raincloud, that perpetually followed him everywhere had returned with thunder on the horizon.
The sorceress patted his shoulder with a small smile. "Don't feel too bad, Zel. If this were easy, then there really would be no point in concealing the spells or magically locking them in the first place."
He peeled away from the window, removing himself entirely from the chair and her friendly gesture. "Normally, I would agree. At this point, however, I'm starting to think we're on a wild goose chase based on nothing but a flimflam theory." He walked a short distance before twirling to face her with a heavy sigh. "We've been at this for nearly a month. We've tried several different interpretations, and nothing seems to be working."
He grimaced at the thought. Another dead end. Memories, sensations of his past failures rushed upstream, flowing from his head to his heart. He sulked under the intensity of another disheartening path.
"It's hopeless," Zelgadis breathed. "For all we know, this is just what it is: a book of poems."
Before Lina could interject, a loud squeak erupted from the door. The sorceress turned and sighed, smiling at the positive presence radiating into the room. Perhaps she could work a miracle and scare Zelgadis's rain cloud back into the sky.
"Oh, hey Amelia," Lina greeted. "How did it go with your dad?"
"Okay," Amelia replied, closing the door behind her. She wrapped her arms around her shoulders. "It's a little cold out there, but I think the fresh air helped. So, did you guys find any clues that might lead us to a spell?"
"Not one," Zelgadis answered for all. His forehead wrinkled and his lower rocky brows rubbed against each other. "As far as I'm concerned, we should just call it quits. I don't see the point in toying with this theory any longer."
"And I'm telling you it's too soon to give up," Lina argued, wagging her finger. "These things take time. Believe me. If I thought this was a waste of time, I would have quit weeks ago. Remember, I'm the one with the experience when it comes to rare magical items.
"Besides," she continued. "We haven't even finished going through the entire book yet and there's still a chance to—"
"Maybe you don't mind wasting your time, but I do," Zelgadis snapped, whipping around. "We're already well past the halfway point. I don't see how finishing the damn book will amount to anything." He stared past the frowning sorceress, glowering at the book. His face tightened. "It was a ridiculous notion to entertain, to begin with."
"Well, I'd like to give it a try," Amelia interjected.
Zelgadis met her innocent gaze. "Be my guest," he gestured with his hand.
Unnoticed to the grouchy chimera, Lina gave a sharp glare before proceeding to the door. She stopped at the doorknob, stretching her arms above her head with her final parting words. "Let me know if you come up with anything, Amelia," she said, now gripping the doorknob. "I'm pretty bushed so I think I'm just gonna head for bed. But I'll still look through the book myself."
Gourry yawned, then proceeded to rub his right eye. "Me too." He rose to his feet, dusting off stray strands of kaleidoscope colored cat hair, now floating in the air. "Snickerdoodle really wore me out with that peacock feather."
"Uh, okay," Amelia said, now holding the book. "Well, goodnight Miss Lina. Goodnight, Mister Gourry."
Once the door clicked shut, Amelia and Zelgadis exchanged looks.
"Snickerdoodle?" Amelia repeated, cocking an eyebrow.
Zelgadis rolled his eyes. "He meant Gingersnap."
Amelia nodded slowly. "Ah."
"I'm going to change for bed," he said flatly.
"Well, don't mind me. I'm just going to sit here and look this over."
Zelgadis paused and turned sharply on his heel. Over his shoulders, his eyes widened. Amelia had made herself at home, planting herself on the edge of his bed. With one foot, she proceeded to pry one heel off, then used the newly bare foot to free the other. Heels kicked to the side, she sat crisscross-applesauce with the book nestled in her lap.
"You're staying?" he asked. He thought she'd take her business elsewhere. Like, oh, he didn't know, her own bedroom.
Cobalt eyes flashed up at him with a shrug. She placed a small decorative pillow behind her to support her back. "If that's all right with you. I mean, two heads are better than one after all!"
After Zelgadis returned in freshly laundered pajamas, he retracted his decision to enforce Amelia's departure.
She kept a constant pensive stare on the open book, dismissing his entry altogether, even when his shadow cast itself above her. As she skimmed to the next page, her upper body arched forward. Zelgadis's lips quirked with a comical smirk. She behaved as if leaning forward would somehow unravel the mystery of the book's nonsensical writings.
A few minutes had passed, and Amelia flipped to the next page in the book. A coiled fist rested against one thoughtful cheek, supported by her elbow resting on a toned thigh. There were several verses about animals and comparisons of human behavior. As if the readings told of people's choices.
Her finger landed on a specific line. "I wonder what this means?" she mused.
Zelgadis grabbed a pair of wool socks from the top drawer of his dresser. "Nonsense," he snorted, slamming the drawer shut with a shrill squeak. He glanced over his shoulder to find Amelia diverting from his gaze. He sighed and looked at his bare blue feet. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
"It's okay."
He didn't need to explain himself to her. She had seen him act like this before. When a promising answer for his cure could not be given, he turned to cynicism. After several failed ventures, Amelia did not blame him. She tried to imagine his disappointment and often felt riddled with mourning. Losing who you once were… She struggled with the idea, and so, she felt even more determined to help.
As Amelia scrutinized the writings, her rightfully tired mind wavered. Her forehead wrinkled and then, suddenly, she released a frustrating wince. She proceeded to close her eyes and rub her tight temple. "I don't know why, but I feel this strange energy…"
"From the book?" he concluded. Zelgadis knew of Amelia's priestess training. He wondered if she picked on something he and the others could not.
"I'm not sure," she said.
"I wouldn't read too much into it," he assured, pulling his socks up over his feet. "That book is nothing but a headache. And a senseless one at that. Whoever wrote it, probably intended to make someone go mad."
Amelia glanced down at the book then back at Zelgadis. She picked up on the undercurrent of disdain in his voice and braced herself. "This must be frustrating, isn't it?"
Zelgadis perked at her presumed conclusion. "What do you mean?"
"I mean because you still haven't given up hope for your cure," she explained. "I know it took a lot for you to come around to trying again."
Zelgadis sat on the opposite edge of the bed, gripping the comforter. His eyes cast onto the glare of the moon, glowing its milky beam onto the wooden floor. It had been over a year since the debacle with the Hellmaster's jar and the voice, the soul that confessed the unthinkable… The reality Zelgadis became too overwrought to accept. And now, the lack of results from the book confirmed that reality all over again.
Zelgadis swallowed hard, suppressing the urge to shudder at the aching reminder. "I know Rezo said he had no knowledge of reversing the transformation… But yes." His voice grew stronger. "I'm still not ready to give up yet. There must be an answer. Somewhere."
A small smile reached Amelia's eyes, baring a bright glow. "That's brave of you."
Zelgadis laughed coldly. "I wouldn't call it brave. Excepting my fate would make me brave. I'm more stubborn than anything."
"But that alone makes you brave," Amelia insisted. "Not many people are willing to admit their shortcomings— Not that I think wanting your cure is a shortcoming," she clarified hastily. "You know what you want, and you go after it. No matter what the outcome may be, you still give it your all. I wish I could be that bold."
Zelgadis never thought of it that way. He supposed, after one disappointment, one would get used to the stinging punch of each failure thereafter. The more he thought about it, the more it made him feel foolish rather than brave. But Amelia was an optimist, so naturally, she found the good in his dogged, sometimes self-destructive obsession with his cure. He, however, did have one thing to refute: Amelia not considering herself as bold. Based, on the superfluity of hero poses and righteous speeches she carried, heedless to how silly she appeared even in the face of malicious danger, he could counterargue.
Zelgadis observed the shift in her expression as her eyes fell back onto the book in silence. "Amelia," he started slowly, "are you alluding to something?"
"Oh, no." She shook her head, eventually smiling and chuckling to herself. "I'm not making much sense, am I? I think I'm just tired that's all."
Amelia wasn't the type of person who found pleasure in unloading her burdens onto to others. The person who sat by and listened attentively, without judgment or unwanted advice, would better describe her uplifting self. But no human could bottle their plights without a soundboard to bounce off. So, was she dismissing her feelings so that she may not make them someone else's concern? Zelgadis could not write off his intuition. Not that he really cared to pry into other's personal business… People's griping tended to leave him irritable and with short, direct, and less than kind advice. But Amelia was his friend. She always took interest in his wallowing, despite its repetitive nature. The least he could, as unnatural as it was for him, was to try to care.
"Amelia?" he called out.
"Yes?"
"What's wrong?"
Amelia's eyes widened at his blatancy. She looked up at him then dismissively ventured back to the text. "What gave you that impression?"
"You've just seem… off as of late," he explained. "Like you're distracting yourself on purpose."
Amelia shot back up and shook her head with forced enthusiasm. "Oh, no! I really do want to help—"
"I don't doubt that," he interrupted with the ease of a raised hand. "It's just… I've noticed you've been making that face recently."
Amelia blinked. "What face?"
He stifled a dry snicker. If only he supplied her with a handheld mirror. "The one where your eyebrows draw closer together and your bottom lip sticks out."
"Oh." Withdrawn, Amelia's voice fell quiet, as if knowing the expression in which he so specifically described. "I guess I haven't been good at concealing my feelings as of late." She set the book aside, curving her knees sideways, as to make herself more comfortable. For a few seconds, she struggled to come around eventually saying, "It's nothing really. It's just…" A heavy sigh fell. "I'm starting to wonder if Daddy really believes I'll fall in love with one of the suitors."
His rocky eyebrows squished together. "Why would you think that?"
"Because that's what happened with, he and my mom."
Zelgadis gawked. "Your parents' marriage was arranged?" Given how unorthodox of a prince Phil was, Zelgadis imagined he married for romantic inclinations rather than political gain.
"It was set up between my grandfathers," Amelia expanded. "They shared similar political viewpoints and were advocates of each other's rulings. So naturally, my mom's parents wanted their only daughter married off to a prince of their country. But they got lucky," she smiled. "Daddy's one of a kind. He's not like most princes."
Zelgadis huffed inwardly. You could say that again.
"He always put my mom and his family's needs first. If he were like most noblemen, I don't think I would be the person I am today.
"And it's not that I want to believe all noblemen are the same," she continued. "It's just— hard when you've met so many who are practically identical to each other. Then again, I think I'm pretty different compared to most noblewomen I've met. So, I guess I should at least try to make friends."
Different didn't begin to describe Amelia. He would not dispute that claim, since Zelgadis never met another princess who did not mind, no, rather, found enjoyment in climbing death-defying heights, partaking in harrowing adventures, and pummeling bad guys by use of her own strength; all for the sake of love and justice while still being feminine with a dash of sophisticated class. With that kind of spirit, typical noblemen would see her as a friend… or threat. It would be to Amelia's benefit, Zelgadis reasoned. She already declared she would not marry outside of love, so perhaps, she could fend them off with her independence.
"I suppose that's all you can do," Zelgadis replied. "This is more for your grandmother than you after all."
"It's really starting to feel that way," Amelia sighed. "Just this last week, she lined up all these courting activities."
"Like what?"
"Oh, typical stuff. Walks, horseback riding, croquet, jousting—"
"Jousting?" He arched an eyebrow. A small smile escaped from the corner of his lip. He could just imagine. "Are you participating?"
Amelia's shoulders slumped. "I wish. She's going to have me sit from the sidelines and watch."
"I don't see how any of them winning a contest or game is going to prove anything."
Whoever made up courting events, they apparently harbored primeval beliefs. Amelia may have been a hopeless romantic, but she was not an empty-headed maiden who marveled at brute strength and factored its primitive charm into such a major commitment as marriage. Zelgadis wouldn't have been surprised if she took it upon herself to dress in armor and vie for her own hand.
"It doesn't but it's expected," Amelia said. Her focus tilted downward. "It makes me feel like I'm some object to win…"
The slackness in her face, the softness in her voice, and pained eyes ignited a spark in Zelgadis. From firsthand experience, he knew what it felt like to be treated like a thing. A monster. He recalled the heavy dull pain in his body and the blossoming insecurity that made him squirm beneath his skin when scrutinizing eyes gawked in horror at his appearance. But in Amelia's respect, he could not comprehend the toll of being viewed as nothing more than a prize.
The more he thought about, the more he realized no one really acknowledged the demoralizing self-worth a woman in Amelia's situation would have experienced. Here she was, a woman who held an immense amount of governing power and still, she could not, would not, be deemed an equal to her male counterpart.
Fueled by empathy he found himself leaning forward. His hand hesitated to move towards hers, but the words from his lips did not. "You're more than that," he said simply.
The words came out so slowly, so quietly, he amazed himself. So much, he stunned himself to the point where movement became impossible. He stared blankly at Amelia whose tears began to evaporate. She looked to him in wonderment.
His mind raced in horror unable to keep pace with the swirling thoughts circling around him like vultures to their sun-scorched prey. Luckily, he regained his mobility and adjusted his throat, nonchalantly shifting. "Has your father said anymore about the cows disappearing from the Sutton farm?"
The topic appeared to break Amelia from her trance. "That's the funny thing," she started, now redirecting her attention. "Daddy's been sending guards to check in with Mister Sutton; and ever since he mailed out the invitations for the suitors, they suddenly stopped disappearing. Miss Lina thinks it's suspicious. But I suppose it's one less thing to worry about in the scheme of things."
"I wouldn't say that just yet," Zelgadis warned. "If that's the case, then any suspicions about King Henry may very well be verified. Think of it this way: with his son's inquisition being accepted, the king may theorize there is no reason to further steal the cows."
"Inquisition?" she echoed.
"If he thinks his son will convince you to marry him," Zelgadis illuminated. "Your father has already accepted the prince's request, right? Regardless if Phil considers this Prince Derek, a serious choice or not, that still gives King Henry reason to believe his son could become the next king of Seyruun. If you accepted the prince's proposal, he'll not only get his fair share of the land for his country, but he'll reap the benefits off Seyruun's economic successes and riches too. This is nothing more than a power struggle."
Amelia sat by quietly, soaking in his words. If the prince had thought this through, he could easily argue that a union between the two kingdoms would ideally resolve any contestation regarding the land's legal ownership. And it wasn't as if Seyruun had not benefited from Ralteague before. For years, the monarchy used Ralteague's famous ports not only for their oversea trades, but also to journey to the Outer World when the monster's barrier had been broken. Joining forces by marriage would not only bridge a gap between their said differences but would provide allies against any shared foes. Other countries had done so, why not they?
It would be a marriage of convenience and that never considered the heart. That was the trouble really…. And to make matters worse, presenting a proposal with political practicality would be arduous to refuse. Amelia blanched at the thought. She had nothing to fall back on, other than her father and his father did not see eye to eye. But that was minute when looking at the entire picture.
But even so, Amelia wouldn't be intimidated into submission. She sat with squared shoulders, holding her chin high. "Well, King Henry can think again. We won't be so easily manipulated by someone who has evil ulterior motives! I'll find out for myself once Prince Derek and I have our meeting. I'm nobody's fool."
"About that. Amelia, I—" Zelgadis stopped midway. He had been thinking about this for a while and now he was rethinking of even saying it. Then, it just came out. "I believe it would be best if I were present during the meeting."
Amelia's eyebrows lowered. "But Prince Derek asked for a private audience."
Zelgadis made a face. "So what? You're about to meet with a delegate from a kingdom that isn't on the best of terms with Seyruun. If he thinks he's going to court you on top of that, then this Prince Derek has no grounds to request a private audience. It would be highly inappropriate given the circumstances. It's basic protocol."
Amelia processed his argument, breaking it up bit by bit. It took her a good minute before Zelgadis's implication dawned on her. Her eyes widened. "Mister Zelgadis, are you saying— do you think he'll try to take advantage of me?" she balked, her cheeks flushed.
"Well, we don't really know him so we can't trust him," he shrugged, doing his best to appear halfheartedly concerned. "Remember, he's not only coming to persuade you for land, but he also intends to marry you. It's a win-win for this… merger of theirs."
"You know, I can handle myself just fine," Amelia reminded.
"I do not doubt your capabilities of self-defense, Amelia."
God knows I've been on the receiving end.
Then again, there were times where she got herself roped into trouble despite her best efforts. Oh, like, for example, when he worked for the kingdom of Xoana, and much to the awkwardness of it all, they were considered enemies. There, amidst one of her zealous proclamations, she literally was roped into a trap! That instance spoke for itself.
"As your bodyguard, it would be irresponsible of me to leave you alone with him," he contested. "Your father mentioned the prince is a magic user, swordsman, and has had military training. And he said…"
Amelia blinked as he left her in suspense. "And he said what?"
"He said he's 'popular with the ladies'," Zelgadis answered, sounding strangled.
Every facial muscle of Amelia's relaxed. The anticipating tension now free, transformed into both shock and assurance. "Oh, Mister Zelgadis," she breathed. "I'm not going to fall for his charm or wit if that's what you're worried about."
"That's beside the point, Amelia," he countered brusquely. "If I'm knowledgeable about a possible threat, I'm not going to stand by and permit it to happen. With me present, he's less likely to try anything… salacious."
Possible threat… Amelia's heart leaped from her stomach. She released a delicate smile, gleeful at the double implication of his word choice. She shouldn't have liked his masculine insecurities, but she couldn't help it. This rare occasion gave way to the underlying affection that was always implied. And now, after countless days, weeks, months, years of patience, perhaps it was the start of a declaration.
Lost in dreamland, Amelia basked and anchored herself in the moment, despite the serious stare coming from the impatient Zelgadis. "Amelia?" he called out. When he got her attention, as glossy as her eyes were, he asked, "Do you understand where I'm coming from?"
"Yes," she inhaled deeply. "I think I do."
Somehow, in the later hours of the evening, the book found itself shut and deserted.
Zelgadis awoke to find himself on his bed, atop his covers with Amelia sleeping peacefully beside him. His dreary eyes adjusted to the darkness, glancing over to view the shimmering lights flecked across the blackness outside his patio doors. What time was it? After abandoning the book, he and Amelia spent a good hour talking. Not about the suitors or meetings or his cure but things they normally wouldn't have time to ideally chat about. While the topics weren't of the utmost importance it was still well, relatively nice. He couldn't recall the last occasion where her world of decrees, meetings, and paperwork allowed them a moment of peace.
And Zelgadis certainly couldn't recall a moment where they had lain closely to one another. Coming into proximity with anyone, led to the urgency for his body to scoot inches away. He mentally slapped himself on instinct and decided to do so. Yet what he felt between his fingers seduced him to stay. Caught between two lean blue fingers he held a cluster of dark violet hair. Against his skin, he explored the soft voluminous texture of her tresses. Once upon a time, his hair shared similar bouncy waves, riding smoothly through each stroke of a brush. Now he bore a metallic sheen to his wiry bramble-like hair, a sharpness that would easily split the bristle of a brush without hesitation.
Zelgadis stifled a soft moan, clapping his mouth shut. His eyelids closed and crinkled as he devoured the soft floral scent of perfume wafting through his nostrils. He struggled to understand himself; to understand the powerful sensation of Amelia's physique against his own. When he could bear it no longer, he opened his eyes, only to examine the physical beauty that deepened Amelia's inner self. Like the artist at heart, his eyes followed the little ski-jumped slope of her petite nose, the curling of her long dark eyelashes, the pursing of her slightly parted plump lips releasing small puffs of air as she slept. A strange new stirring rose within him. Whispers of primitive urges came on posthaste. The warmth radiating off her forehead enticed him to lean in. However, his better judgment kept him still, despite being lost amid the night's mystical allurement.
What is wrong with me? Zelgadis withheld a snort as to not wake the sleeping princess. Far back in the cobwebs of his reluctant heart, he knew what was wrong. The question of if he would admit it was the pressing matter. He adamantly rejected the question and the enrapture he fell prey to.
It was not even fair to Amelia. Here she was unaware and asleep, and he relished this moment of intimacy as if it were something more.
Exhaling through his nostrils, Zelgadis rolled over onto his back. Tomorrow had already been decided for her and if he wanted to… He examined his hand above his head. The blue coloring lost to the night's sky. At that moment, he pretended his skin had turned back to its milky shade. He withheld a snort. His hand crashed back to his side. Dreaming was pointless. He knew the blue would shine by daylight and all the pebbles gracing up his arm and to his face would annihilate his awoken inkling altogether.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
A faint moan escaped from Amelia's lips, her body tightening then shifting. She stirred with a scrunched nose as her blurred eyesight adjusted to her inky surroundings. Hazily, she made out the silhouette of Zelgadis. Slowly, she sat up and massaged her face.
"What time is it?" she murmured.
"Late." Zelgadis swung his feet over the bed. His back faced her. "We fell asleep."
A high pitch gasp soared from her throat. "Oh, no! I have to get to my rooms!"
Amelia leaped from the bed and scrambled up onto her feet. Against the shock of the cold wooden floor, her bare toes were confronted with a rather rude awakening. She winced at the cold touch, her arms enveloping her shivering skin. Then she froze. Frenzied hands patted against the undercarriage of her breasts. The lack of support reminded her of the corset's removal in Zelgadis's water closet, so she could breathe without said torture device digging into her ribs and devouring every breathe she took.
She scolded herself under her breath as she scavenged for her belongings. Zelgadis stood by, sighing at the pitiful sight of Amelia blindly searching while coming up empty handy with only stubbed toes to show for it. For once, he decided to be generous and chanted a lighting spell. The spell was of great aid, as the pulsing ball of light indicated Amelia had passed her kicked off heels twice. She gave him a silly grin as she picked up the heels, found at the legs of the bed.
When she rose back up, Zelgadis stood before her, holding an intimate garment filled with tangled strings and white trimmed lace by a couple of mere fingers.
"Here," he gestured stiffly.
Amelia's heartbeat accelerated as she stared at her undone corset resting in his grasp. Gingerly, she took the corset. "Oh. Uh, thank you." She cast her gaze off to the side, concealing the radiating gleam now proliferating from her cheeks.
Silence consumed the air, each set of eyes dashing away from the other's gaze. Steeped in embarrassment, Amelia's neck compressed itself into her hunched shoulders. Her eyes persisted in their tango of avoidance, eventually settling on the patio doors behind Zelgadis.
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her hair and adjusted her throat. "I think I'll just climb out the patio doors—"
"You can't at this hour," Zelgadis said. His voice quieted, ringing with a lower much tender tone. "It's not safe."
"I've done it plenty of times before," she justified.
"Yes, Amelia, but remember, I'm your bodyguard. I can't allow you to risk a limb simply because you have this innate desire to climb."
She bit her lip, turning towards the door. "I guess I'll have to use the hall."
"I should at least escort you to your rooms to ensure you get there safely—"
"I'll be okay," Amelia insisted with ease. "Besides," she started, quieter than before. "I think it might be best if I go on my own." There was no telling who may be snooping around and what conclusions they would draw on their own…
"Well, goodnight then and…. Thank you for your help," he said, the words difficult for him to form.
"I'm sorry it wasn't much," she said, knowing their casual chatter had dominated the pursuit for spells. "I'll take the book with me. I'll try to give it a quick glance before going to bed to make up for falling asleep."
Zelgadis shrugged. "Don't worry about it. It's the thought that counts… I mean, that's what you always say."
Despite his hurried half-hearted attempt at a response, Amelia smiled. "Goodnight, Mister Zelgadis."
Once she exited the bedroom, Amelia pressed her back against the door. A slow deep breath emerged from her chest. Her eyes and lips turning upward. A floating sensation claimed her body. For the first time in weeks, she felt light, eased, freed… From the very person she least expected and yet hoped for.
She spent the night with him. Well, if she was going to review the impromptu sleepover honestly, she simply fell asleep with him on the bed after running out of things to talk about. Even so, he trusted her, felt comfortable enough to lay next to her. An accidental baby step but no less a baby step.
When her dreamy state's potency faded, Amelia tiptoed down the hall. She lugged her heels, corset, and the hem of her weighted skirt in her hand while the book stayed balanced in the crook of her arm. She had nothing to hide but she knew if someone discovered her in Zelgadis's quarters at this hour, questions were bound to fly. What she didn't anticipate was to be blinded by a ball of stark light and its formidable chanter standing astute, as if waiting for her.
"Oh!" Amelia stumbled backward. She swallowed, her shoes slipping out of her grip. "Uh- hi, Grandmother Vonzelle! What are you doing up this late?"
Dressed in the most modest and ruffled nightgown, Vonzelle pushed up her glasses as if to better scrutinize her apprehended granddaughter. "I decided to do some light reading before bed."
Amelia peered down at her grandmother's other occupied hand, glimpsing at the title of the book. She wouldn't have put Seyruun's History: A Time of Philosophy, Peace, and Treaties in the category of light reading.
"I was surprised to find you absent from the library since you've taken residence amongst the dusty shelves every spare moment you've had," her grandmother said. Her meticulous gaze probing with gesturing eyes. "Unless you found more unsavory entertainment for the evening?"
"Oh, this?" Amelia glanced down at her heels and unlaced corset. She gulped, masking her discomfort with a full grin. "I lost track of time too! I was working on my negotiations for the prince in the Solar. So, I had an idea of what to say during our meeting."
Vonzelle rose an eyebrow. "You need to strip to write out negotiations?"
"The corset was getting uncomfortable, and my feet started to hurt," she answered, perspiring palms rubbing against the slippery texture of her heels.
"Your room is down the opposite hall," Vonzelle pointed out.
"Yes," Amelia replied slowly. Her eyes trailed down the hall. "But um… this hall is faster to the kitchens! For a glass of water. The night air sometimes irritates my throat, you see."
"And you need a book to do so?" she pressed further.
Amelia's heartbeat increased. Time for props. "I thought I would use it to help me practice my balance down the staircase," Amelia declared, holding the book above her head. "You mentioned it needed some work, so I thought why not now?"
Vonzelle watched with an unamused frown, as her granddaughter's upper body teeter tottered to balance the wobbling thick book atop her head.
"I do not think it would be wise to obtain a head injury with the suitors arriving tomorrow," she warned. "No, I shall fetch you a glass of water."
Caught by surprise, the book toppled, falling open onto the floor. Amelia reached down to pick it up, her accessories slipping out of her grasp. "Oh no, you really don't have to—"
"It has never hurt anyone to do a little late-night exercise. Now, off to bed with you," she shooed. "I shan't be long."
As Amelia finished clasping the last button of her nightgown, Vonzelle returned with the requested beverage. She thanked her grandmother and sat the glass on her nightstand before slipping into bed. Amelia thought her grandmother would have made her exit, yet she remained standing by.
There had been no resolve regarding their earlier dispute. Amelia wondered if this was her grandmother's attempt at making up. A stretch by most standards, but the princess could not resist the fault of hope. Her suspicions heightened as Vonzelle stood by the nightstand, eyes darting between the filled glass to her supposedly parched granddaughter. Upon realizing she sat there without bothering to take a sip, Amelia titled the glass to her mouth and swallowed.
She made a satisfying gasp for effect before placing it back down. "Refreshing," she said.
Vonzelle kept a stoic face. "I have yet to see more than a few guards standing watch. I cannot believe Philionel has not tightened security around here. You'd think he'd learn."
Amelia understood what she meant yet kept quiet instead of divulging into the sensitive subject. She regretted her silence, however, as Vonzelle casually grabbed Zelgadis's found book, thumbing through it with objective eyes. Amelia scrutinized the slightest change in her grandmother's expression all while biting at her fingernails. When the repetitive nibbles failed to calm her nerves, she opened her mouth only to clamp it shut. She held back the urge to gesture and speak, reminding herself and raised heartbeat that there was little to no content for her grandmother to be dubious of. The last thing she needed was Vonzelle to take sudden interest into what could be a clue towards unknown spells or even Mister Zelgadis's cure.
"Where did you get this?" Vonzelle asked, examining the rough exterior of the cover. "It appears it has seen better days."
"Just from a friend," Amelia replied.
Wrinkled fingers pursued their exploration of the book, eyes darting from left to right. After a minute or so, Vonzelle placed the book back onto the nightstand. Amelia presumed she'd finally leave, only for her to plant herself at Amelia's covered feet.
"You know," Vonzelle started, "your father used to give your mother little trinkets. He'd give them to her in secret. In my garden, where the climbing roses grow onto the arbor. They spent several hours there together. All alone watching the sunset."
"Sounds very romantic," Amelia said. Her heart lightened at the thought of her parent's romance blossoming under a cliché but often perceived idealistic hideaway.
Vonzelle pursed her lips. "To some. I'm certain he didn't think I was looking, but I knew. I see more than most presume. Comes with the territory of being a noblewoman… and a mother."
"Well, I'm sure you've got a great set of eyes," Amelia grinned, fiddling with her hands.
The longer Vonzelle stayed the tension in Amelia's shoulders intensified. She knew that look. The long steady poker face that dripped with oozing suspicion. Vonzelle had been sleuthing around the corner of the library for weeks, and now she was fishing for information. There was nothing incriminating to hide, about the book or Zelgadis. But Amelia did not believe that gave her the right to invade her privacy. Amelia never cared nor asked for her own personal watchdog.
When her lighting spell dwindled, Vonzelle rose from up off the bed, as if prompting her to retire for the night. "I shouldn't keep you. You must rest," she said, patting Amelia's knee. She then turned away from her granddaughter, commanding another lighting spell as she strolled towards the door. "Tomorrow is an important day. It will be the first step towards your new life."
Grabbing the doorknob, she gave one last look over her shoulder. She breathed deeply through her nostrils at the sight of her drooping granddaughter. The darkness cloaked her aging eyes, but a flicker of a warmer shade of blue crept in. Amelia looked so small in the massive bed. Like the night when Vonzelle found the newly motherless girl, whose comforter was pulled to her chin in fear of a bloody hand coming out of her wardrobe.
She exhaled another sigh. "Do not look so forlorn, Amelia," Vonzelle said, her voice strangely calm. "You'll see. By the end of their visitation, you'll be thanking me. Your mother certainly did. Goodnight, my dear."
Amelia followed the dramatic cast of Vonzelle's shadow against the wall until the lighting spell faded out the door. She sat there in the stillness of the dark with only the casting moonlight as her company.
"Goodnight," she said to no one in particular.
A/N Continue: This chapter turned out to be longer than expected, as mine usually tend to do. Still, I will do my best to keep chapters between 6,000 to 9,000 words so they aren't too arduous to read. In any case, thank you for reading! Chapter nine will FINALLY feature the suitors. And yes, that includes Prince Derek. ;)
Until then, wishing you all to stay safe and healthy during this challenging time and hope everyone has a wonderful start to fall!
