AN/ Okay, I think I've left you guys long enough with that cliffhanger,
*^_^* I can't believe it, I'm in double digits for my reviews! WAHOO! I'm
quite happy, can you tell? *^_~* Seriously though, thanks guys, your input
means a lot to me. *chokes on the sentimentality of it all* Anyway, on
with the story! Death to my rambling! Huzzah! Enjoy, R&R please, thanks
bunches.
Chapter Eight - Tears and Laugher
If he had swallowed he would have slit his throat.
Good Gods. . . She had stopped it, thank every good spirit above, she had stopped it. Estrela stood, frozen in shock, razor edge and tip of her deadly blade pressed very tightly across the neck of General Balgus Ganesha, one of the three swordsmen of Gaea. She couldn't believe it.
"Are you just going to stand there?" The towering general inquired suddenly, leaning backwards slightly to relieve the pressure of the blade on his throat just enough to allow speech, but making no more to step back. "If you plan on using that, do it. If not, stand down." Estrela was still dumbfounded, but had the sense to drop her blade to her side and step back, away from the general, bowing deeply.
"General Balgus, I'm so- "
"Your speed is excellent." Balgus interrupted before she could begin her apology, his voice a deep rumble through the otherwise silent room, "Your form's not bad, but you seem too stiff, like you are injured." Estrela looked up, meeting the general's steady, powerful gaze. She wondered how he had lost his eye, the scar looked fierce, not a clean cut. He seemed to be waiting for her to respond, but her wounds were the last thing she wanted to speak about. Nevertheless, Balgus's stare was forceful, and his firm demeanor assured her that he was expecting an answer.
"I was injured a few years ago, there were many bones broken and much damage done. Some of it has never truly healed, and I become stiff at times. It is nothing to trouble yourself with, General." She would not tell him of the incessant, numbing pain, or the sharp pangs that hit her at random, stealing her breath and making her eyes water, those were hers to deal with. She had learned to live with the ache, it hardly bothered her anymore. She would survive, she always had.
The general regarded her dubiously, as if he knew she was keeping something, but let the matter drop.
"I will spar with you," He said, still unmoving
"You honor me general," His face transformed with the hint of a grin at her comment,
"We shall see."
A long while later, Estrela did not know how much time exactly, found them circling one another slowly, swords poised ready, and attention completely locked on their opponent. Estrela was dripping with sweat, her shirt plastered to her back and hair almost out of its braid. Her chest was heaving with exertion, but her grip on her blade remained unwavering. Balgus seemed in the same shape, though he appeared surprisingly less weary. They continued to circle, until, finally, Estrela charged, blade moving quicker than the eye could follow, slicing toward the general's chest, then faking rapidly to angle toward his neck. Balgus's sword raised in a blink, meeting Estrela's with such force as to cause a shower of sparks. They were both completely consumed by the fight, blades moving faster and with more power than should have been possible when training. Using her own momentum against her, Balgus shoved Estrela back, setting her off balance and causing a stumble, enough of an opportunity to get his blade through her defenses, to stop, resting against her slender neck. Both were unmoving now, gazes locked and expressions feral. Then the general chuckled softly in his throat and lowered his sword, allowing Estrela to straighten completely. Sheathing his blade, Balgus regarded her with a new air of admiration, still laughing softly.
"Very nicely done, lady," He said finally
"Please general," Estrela managed to croak between gulps of breath, "Estrela, or Cisne. I am no lady" A large grin now grew on Balgus's rough features,
"As you wish, Cisne. But you must call me Balgus." Estrela pushed her bangs away from her face, meeting Balgus's grin with her own.
"Alright, Balgus." Both fighters moved to the side of the large room, where fresh towels lay folded on a low bench. A small rack with several whetstones also waited, and after mopping her brow, Estrela sat and began to hone her blade. Balgus removed his perspire soaked shirt, wiping his shoulders and neck silently before taking a seat beside the pale haired woman and beginning to work on his own edge. After a few moments of quiet, with the soft scratch of stone on steel the only break from complete still, Estrela could no longer stand it. Questions had been burning through her mind since her meeting with the King that morning. It was too much.
"How long have you known," She blurted suddenly, wishing she could vanish as Balgus stopped his work and turned his single eye to her, "About King Goau?" He seemed slightly surprised, but still composed, and not angry. Estrela took this as a good sign.
"What do you mean?" He asked, raising one thick, dark brow.
"He's dying, isn't he?" Estrela was almost afraid to hear the answer. She knew it was true, she felt it, but to hear someone confirm it. . . Please, don't let it be true. . .
Balgus did not look away in discomfort, as many people would have done, but kept his gaze even and his voice flat as he answered,
"Yes, he is." Estrela felt the bile rise in her throat, her heart wrenching in her chest, "King Goau has been ill for almost a year now. At least, I've known for about that long, it could have been much more." Gods, she had to ask,
"How long does he have. . ." Her voice was near a whisper
"The healers have given him about eight colours, a year at most." She was terrified to continue, but she needed to know,
"Does. . . Does Folken know?" Balgus finally broke eye contact with her, turning back to his blade and letting out a deep breath.
"No one has told him, but I think he suspects. However, the Queen said that she was going to reveal it to him very soon. She feels he has the right to know, and I quite agree. We've kept it from him too long anyway." Overwhelming waves of sympathy and sadness coursed through Estrela's mind as she realized why the Queen had wanted to see Folken. Then guilt began to filter in. Folken had comforted her when she was paining, now when he needed her she wasn't there. His father was dying, and she had left to train. But I didn't know. . . It made no difference, the guilt was still eating at her, tearing her insides. She had to find him.
Estrela stood suddenly, dropping the whetstone back in its rack and sheathing her blade.
"Excuse me, Balgus," And before he could reply, she was gone.
Estrela saw nothing as she sprinted through the halls and corridors of the palace. Everything around her, servants, rooms, ornaments, all turned into a blur as she rushed past, determined to find the prince. She could almost feel him, sense his presence, his pain, but she could not find him. Several of the castle staff attempted to stop her, to inquire where she was going or why, but Estrela dashed past them all without a word.
Finally, after a fruitless search inside, Estrela found herself standing before the two huge doors leading to the First Garden, their garden. She pushed one of the portals open, just enough to slip inside, and waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Well, it couldn't quite be called darkness, with the twin moons so close, bathing everything in a soft blue glow, but it was a different sort of light than the warm radiance of the torches inside. The door made a slight click as she closed it behind her, but even that seemed a shocking disruption to the absolute stillness of the place. Estrela slowly made her way toward the dragon fountain, walking on the cool grass rather than the pebbled path because of her bare feet. She had left her boots lying in the training room, and the small round stones bothered the scar tissue on her exposed soles. Moving through shadow, Estrela saw no one else, and was about to turn back and check the other gardens when she heard it. Ragged breathing, and a slight shuffling noise. Estrela froze mid-stride, cocking her head toward the sound. She followed it, deeper into shadow, behind the large tree she had fallen asleep under earlier that morning. And there he was.
Folken sat between two huge roots, his back against the thick trunk. His long legs were pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and his face was hidden in his knees. Despite the darkness, Estrela could clearly see his shoulders shake and shudder with each breath he took. She said nothing, but moved to kneel beside him. The prince did not respond, he may not have noticed her, until she lifted a hand to run it though his ruffled hair. A small gasp, and Folken lifted his head to meet her gaze. His eyes were sunken, his skin pallid in the dim light. Estrela could see the pain, the absolute agony in his features, though no tears stained his cheeks. Before he could say anything, Estrela pushed herself toward him, enveloping him in her bare arms and holding his face to her shoulder. Both kept silent, but Folken's shaking seemed to fade. Then Estrela felt it, the warm wetness soaking into the cloth of her shirt. She began to rock back and forth, cooing soothingly in the back of her throat. The drenching of her shoulder and chest intensified. Stopping her rocking, Estrela raised the prince's head with her hand, and held his chin. Tears streamed down his face, but he was not blubbering or bawling. It seemed as if his eyes were simply trickling, and his face remained the mask of anguish. Estrela leaned forward, brushing tears away with her soft lips. Folken's eyes widened, but he did not protest, and the flow of weeping seemed to ebb. The prince kept Estrela's gaze for a moment more, before removing his arms from around his knees and wrapping them around her slender form. He dropped his face to the nape of her neck, resting the side of his head on her dry shoulder. His crying had all but ceased, and Estrela shifted positions slightly so that her back rested against the wide trunk of the tree behind them and Folken lay against her. They lay there for a long time, neither speaking, until Folken sat up slightly, taking one of Estrela's hands in his own. He would not meet her gaze, but stared at their clasped fingers while whispering,
"Thank you," He began, almost too softly to be heard. Then his mouth opened again, as if to say more, then closed. He raised his eyes slightly and looked into hers, seeming like two black voids through her face in the dark. "Thank you. . ." He said again, and broke away from her embrace.
The prince stood, bringing Estrela up after him by their still enfolded hands, and rested his forehead against hers for a brief moment before taking a tentative step out of the shadows. He took a deep breath, trying to collect himself before they began their walk back into the castle. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to Estrela beside him,
"You don't need to be strong, not with me." She said quietly. Folken felt a lump rise in his throat, and the burning in his eyes of more tears, but he blinked them back and swallowed roughly. They were before the doors now.
"In there I do," He said in a strained voice, motioning to the castle before them. Estrela gave him a small smile.
"I'll help then." She said. Folken couldn't stop himself now, a single tear escaped his efforts, rolling down his right cheek. Estrela titled her head forward, stopping the liquid's journey with her lips once again, then moving to the outer corner of each of his eyes.
"A blessing, for happiness." She whispered as she pulled away, pale hair shining in the soft moonlight, "Only given to those very close, or very special to one of my people." Folken was speechless, faced with Estrela's ebony gaze and small, glorious smile. She turned away suddenly, reaching out to grasp the door handle and pull the portal open. They were both briefly blinded by the torchlight of the hallway, harsh compared to the gentle glow outside. Folken kept hold of Estrela's hand as they walked down the corridor, his grip bordering on tight, as if he was afraid she would disappear if he let her go. If she minded the squeeze, she said nothing, but instead moved to lean against him as they strode through the halls.
Time passed, as it always does, and summer moved through and out of Fanelia, bringing the crisp breath of autumn behind it. The King's health had, surprisingly, improved greatly, so much so that the healers had given him a longer estimation, perhaps over two years. This news had bettered Folken's mood greatly, and the mood of the entire palace. The prince seemed almost back to his old self. Balgus had been loath to leave his King, his friend, regardless of his good progress, but the general had a student in Asturia, and felt responsible to return and finish the boy's training.
It was the middle of Grey** when King Goau announced that preparations for the Harvest Festival would begin. Fanelia sprung to life, with parties and feasts being planned, and the entire city being decorated with streamers and ornaments of every colour imaginable. When she asked, Folken explained to Estrela about the celebration,
"After the gathering of the majority of our crops," He had told to her one night over a game of stones and dragons, "The entire country prepares. The festivities differ depending on how far out of the city you go. Here, celebrations start on the twentieth moon of Grey, and continue until the twenty-sixth. There are feasts and parties every one of those nights in the city, and a huge ball in the castle the evening of the twenty-sixth. The public does not attend the ball, but the five nights until then everyone may celebrate in the city, nobility and common alike. Though I have never seen it celebrated in the outlying villages, I've heard that they have a feast and a dance one of the nights between the twentieth and twenty-sixth." He paused, raising his eyes from the game board, "I hope you will be attending the ball, as a royal guest you have that privilege, or rather, I do. . ." He trailed off when he noticed the glare he was receiving. There was silence in the room other than the crackling of the fire. Estrela and Folken sat in one of the rooms of Folken's chambers, a sitting area with several plush chairs, a small, overstuffed chesterfield, the game board, a medium sized hearth, and row upon row of bookcases, each overflowing with a hugely diverse selection of volumes, some older than the prince himself. Folken had been flabbergasted when he learned that Estrela couldn't read common, and had set about trying to teach her. In return, Estrela had agreed to help him translate some of the ancient tomes in the castle's main library from the Old Tongue, and perhaps even teach the prince a bit of the near dead language. She soon learned to watch her random mutters, as Folken would quickly want to know their meanings, many of which Estrela would have rather not repeated. He learned exceptionally fast, and they could now carry on simple conversations in Estrela's native tongue. However, at this particular moment, Estrela felt quite speechless in both dialects.
"Folken, I - "
"Wait," The prince interrupted, "Before you say no. Before you make all the excuses you always make, like about why you can't go to the market or meet visiting nobles or anything like that, just remember how all those arguments ended. You went anyway. Please, save us some trouble this time, just say yes. Come on," and then the dreaded words that always followed, "You'll have fun,"
Estrela felt like banging her head against the board in front of her. Every time it was the same. He would find something, something he knew would make her uncomfortable beyond words, and then try to talk her into going. She would refuse, he would insist. She would decline again, and he would beg. If that didn't break her, he would pretend to be hurt, like she had personally insulted him by saying no, and then she would finally concede. It was torture, being dragged before all those people, their eyes on her, it all made her so uneasy. Folken said it was good for her, that she was too antisocial, and should learn to deal with people. She thought that she could deal with people wonderfully, if only they wouldn't try to kill her or run screaming into the distance when they found out what she was. It took all her skills to convince Folken not to introduce her to people, especially nobles, as 'Estrela das Sombra, the Cisne representative to Fanelia'. He was trying to drive her crazy, Estrela just knew it.
Damn, he had her this time. She didn't want to go, really didn't, but she couldn't prove him right, she couldn't let him think that she was predictable,
"How do you know I was going to say no?" Here goes nothing, "For your information, I would be happy to go. I've never had the chance to dress up before, other than clean breeches and my good shirt. I want to wear a dress, and put my hair up, and have my face painted like a doll," Good Gods above, what had she done? The look on Folken's face was priceless, a mix of surprise, confusion, happiness, and suspicion. When he spoke, his voice reflected all these emotions as well, adding an odd tone to his speech. All in all, it was quite funny,
"You'll come?" Estrela nodded. This seemed to baffle the prince even more,
"Without a fight?" Another nod, "Really?" She would not dignify that with a response. A smile slowly spread over Folken's face, and he pushed away from the game board. "I'll be back, stay here." It was Estrela's turn to look surprised, as the prince stood from his chair and headed toward the chamber doors,
"Where are you going?" She cried after him just as he disappeared out of the threshold. A mop teal hair popped back into the room, revealing Folken's still grinning face,
"To schedule a fitting for your new dress," And the head was gone again. Estrela sprung out of her chair, pulling the door open once again and following the prince into the hall,
"But it's the middle of the night Folken!" She called after his retreating form.
"I'm the crown prince," He threw back over his shoulder as he turned a corner, "It's never too late. Now go back to my room and wait for me, please." Estrela halted as she lost sight of the prince, she couldn't stop him now, she had agreed. Reversing her course to head back to the sitting room, the enormity of what had just happened hit her like a club to the jaw. She had agreed to go to a ball. A public ball. Without a fight. And wear a dress. Good Gods.
AN/ Heh, I like this chapter. Next up, the festival! Yay! Oh, and for those of you who want more Folken/Estrela cutey-fluffy stuff, just wait. As you all know, Folken's life is not want for pain, and I'll tell you now, neither is Estrela's. *cute comforty stuff* Also, next chapter we might find out the origin of all those scars of hers, icky. Oh, I forgot to put this last time, but I apologize for my butchery of the Portuguese language, I blame the little fish. Seriously though, I don't speak Portuguese, I don't know anyone who does, so I have to rely on our dear friends at AltaVista, whom, as most of you must know, are not always accurate. Thanks for your understanding, and pity, and money if you so choose, *^_~* Why then, you may be asking yourself, if she doesn't speak Portuguese, did she choose it, instead of French, or some other language she might know a little bit about? Well, I'm crazy, so there. Later everybody. Peace.
**Grey - September (I would also like to thank Sarah-neko from saving me from being my normally anal-retentive self, and making up a complete Gaean Calendar. Somebody had to do it, and I'm glad it was her *^_^*)
Chapter Eight - Tears and Laugher
If he had swallowed he would have slit his throat.
Good Gods. . . She had stopped it, thank every good spirit above, she had stopped it. Estrela stood, frozen in shock, razor edge and tip of her deadly blade pressed very tightly across the neck of General Balgus Ganesha, one of the three swordsmen of Gaea. She couldn't believe it.
"Are you just going to stand there?" The towering general inquired suddenly, leaning backwards slightly to relieve the pressure of the blade on his throat just enough to allow speech, but making no more to step back. "If you plan on using that, do it. If not, stand down." Estrela was still dumbfounded, but had the sense to drop her blade to her side and step back, away from the general, bowing deeply.
"General Balgus, I'm so- "
"Your speed is excellent." Balgus interrupted before she could begin her apology, his voice a deep rumble through the otherwise silent room, "Your form's not bad, but you seem too stiff, like you are injured." Estrela looked up, meeting the general's steady, powerful gaze. She wondered how he had lost his eye, the scar looked fierce, not a clean cut. He seemed to be waiting for her to respond, but her wounds were the last thing she wanted to speak about. Nevertheless, Balgus's stare was forceful, and his firm demeanor assured her that he was expecting an answer.
"I was injured a few years ago, there were many bones broken and much damage done. Some of it has never truly healed, and I become stiff at times. It is nothing to trouble yourself with, General." She would not tell him of the incessant, numbing pain, or the sharp pangs that hit her at random, stealing her breath and making her eyes water, those were hers to deal with. She had learned to live with the ache, it hardly bothered her anymore. She would survive, she always had.
The general regarded her dubiously, as if he knew she was keeping something, but let the matter drop.
"I will spar with you," He said, still unmoving
"You honor me general," His face transformed with the hint of a grin at her comment,
"We shall see."
A long while later, Estrela did not know how much time exactly, found them circling one another slowly, swords poised ready, and attention completely locked on their opponent. Estrela was dripping with sweat, her shirt plastered to her back and hair almost out of its braid. Her chest was heaving with exertion, but her grip on her blade remained unwavering. Balgus seemed in the same shape, though he appeared surprisingly less weary. They continued to circle, until, finally, Estrela charged, blade moving quicker than the eye could follow, slicing toward the general's chest, then faking rapidly to angle toward his neck. Balgus's sword raised in a blink, meeting Estrela's with such force as to cause a shower of sparks. They were both completely consumed by the fight, blades moving faster and with more power than should have been possible when training. Using her own momentum against her, Balgus shoved Estrela back, setting her off balance and causing a stumble, enough of an opportunity to get his blade through her defenses, to stop, resting against her slender neck. Both were unmoving now, gazes locked and expressions feral. Then the general chuckled softly in his throat and lowered his sword, allowing Estrela to straighten completely. Sheathing his blade, Balgus regarded her with a new air of admiration, still laughing softly.
"Very nicely done, lady," He said finally
"Please general," Estrela managed to croak between gulps of breath, "Estrela, or Cisne. I am no lady" A large grin now grew on Balgus's rough features,
"As you wish, Cisne. But you must call me Balgus." Estrela pushed her bangs away from her face, meeting Balgus's grin with her own.
"Alright, Balgus." Both fighters moved to the side of the large room, where fresh towels lay folded on a low bench. A small rack with several whetstones also waited, and after mopping her brow, Estrela sat and began to hone her blade. Balgus removed his perspire soaked shirt, wiping his shoulders and neck silently before taking a seat beside the pale haired woman and beginning to work on his own edge. After a few moments of quiet, with the soft scratch of stone on steel the only break from complete still, Estrela could no longer stand it. Questions had been burning through her mind since her meeting with the King that morning. It was too much.
"How long have you known," She blurted suddenly, wishing she could vanish as Balgus stopped his work and turned his single eye to her, "About King Goau?" He seemed slightly surprised, but still composed, and not angry. Estrela took this as a good sign.
"What do you mean?" He asked, raising one thick, dark brow.
"He's dying, isn't he?" Estrela was almost afraid to hear the answer. She knew it was true, she felt it, but to hear someone confirm it. . . Please, don't let it be true. . .
Balgus did not look away in discomfort, as many people would have done, but kept his gaze even and his voice flat as he answered,
"Yes, he is." Estrela felt the bile rise in her throat, her heart wrenching in her chest, "King Goau has been ill for almost a year now. At least, I've known for about that long, it could have been much more." Gods, she had to ask,
"How long does he have. . ." Her voice was near a whisper
"The healers have given him about eight colours, a year at most." She was terrified to continue, but she needed to know,
"Does. . . Does Folken know?" Balgus finally broke eye contact with her, turning back to his blade and letting out a deep breath.
"No one has told him, but I think he suspects. However, the Queen said that she was going to reveal it to him very soon. She feels he has the right to know, and I quite agree. We've kept it from him too long anyway." Overwhelming waves of sympathy and sadness coursed through Estrela's mind as she realized why the Queen had wanted to see Folken. Then guilt began to filter in. Folken had comforted her when she was paining, now when he needed her she wasn't there. His father was dying, and she had left to train. But I didn't know. . . It made no difference, the guilt was still eating at her, tearing her insides. She had to find him.
Estrela stood suddenly, dropping the whetstone back in its rack and sheathing her blade.
"Excuse me, Balgus," And before he could reply, she was gone.
Estrela saw nothing as she sprinted through the halls and corridors of the palace. Everything around her, servants, rooms, ornaments, all turned into a blur as she rushed past, determined to find the prince. She could almost feel him, sense his presence, his pain, but she could not find him. Several of the castle staff attempted to stop her, to inquire where she was going or why, but Estrela dashed past them all without a word.
Finally, after a fruitless search inside, Estrela found herself standing before the two huge doors leading to the First Garden, their garden. She pushed one of the portals open, just enough to slip inside, and waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Well, it couldn't quite be called darkness, with the twin moons so close, bathing everything in a soft blue glow, but it was a different sort of light than the warm radiance of the torches inside. The door made a slight click as she closed it behind her, but even that seemed a shocking disruption to the absolute stillness of the place. Estrela slowly made her way toward the dragon fountain, walking on the cool grass rather than the pebbled path because of her bare feet. She had left her boots lying in the training room, and the small round stones bothered the scar tissue on her exposed soles. Moving through shadow, Estrela saw no one else, and was about to turn back and check the other gardens when she heard it. Ragged breathing, and a slight shuffling noise. Estrela froze mid-stride, cocking her head toward the sound. She followed it, deeper into shadow, behind the large tree she had fallen asleep under earlier that morning. And there he was.
Folken sat between two huge roots, his back against the thick trunk. His long legs were pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, and his face was hidden in his knees. Despite the darkness, Estrela could clearly see his shoulders shake and shudder with each breath he took. She said nothing, but moved to kneel beside him. The prince did not respond, he may not have noticed her, until she lifted a hand to run it though his ruffled hair. A small gasp, and Folken lifted his head to meet her gaze. His eyes were sunken, his skin pallid in the dim light. Estrela could see the pain, the absolute agony in his features, though no tears stained his cheeks. Before he could say anything, Estrela pushed herself toward him, enveloping him in her bare arms and holding his face to her shoulder. Both kept silent, but Folken's shaking seemed to fade. Then Estrela felt it, the warm wetness soaking into the cloth of her shirt. She began to rock back and forth, cooing soothingly in the back of her throat. The drenching of her shoulder and chest intensified. Stopping her rocking, Estrela raised the prince's head with her hand, and held his chin. Tears streamed down his face, but he was not blubbering or bawling. It seemed as if his eyes were simply trickling, and his face remained the mask of anguish. Estrela leaned forward, brushing tears away with her soft lips. Folken's eyes widened, but he did not protest, and the flow of weeping seemed to ebb. The prince kept Estrela's gaze for a moment more, before removing his arms from around his knees and wrapping them around her slender form. He dropped his face to the nape of her neck, resting the side of his head on her dry shoulder. His crying had all but ceased, and Estrela shifted positions slightly so that her back rested against the wide trunk of the tree behind them and Folken lay against her. They lay there for a long time, neither speaking, until Folken sat up slightly, taking one of Estrela's hands in his own. He would not meet her gaze, but stared at their clasped fingers while whispering,
"Thank you," He began, almost too softly to be heard. Then his mouth opened again, as if to say more, then closed. He raised his eyes slightly and looked into hers, seeming like two black voids through her face in the dark. "Thank you. . ." He said again, and broke away from her embrace.
The prince stood, bringing Estrela up after him by their still enfolded hands, and rested his forehead against hers for a brief moment before taking a tentative step out of the shadows. He took a deep breath, trying to collect himself before they began their walk back into the castle. He felt a hand on his arm, and turned to Estrela beside him,
"You don't need to be strong, not with me." She said quietly. Folken felt a lump rise in his throat, and the burning in his eyes of more tears, but he blinked them back and swallowed roughly. They were before the doors now.
"In there I do," He said in a strained voice, motioning to the castle before them. Estrela gave him a small smile.
"I'll help then." She said. Folken couldn't stop himself now, a single tear escaped his efforts, rolling down his right cheek. Estrela titled her head forward, stopping the liquid's journey with her lips once again, then moving to the outer corner of each of his eyes.
"A blessing, for happiness." She whispered as she pulled away, pale hair shining in the soft moonlight, "Only given to those very close, or very special to one of my people." Folken was speechless, faced with Estrela's ebony gaze and small, glorious smile. She turned away suddenly, reaching out to grasp the door handle and pull the portal open. They were both briefly blinded by the torchlight of the hallway, harsh compared to the gentle glow outside. Folken kept hold of Estrela's hand as they walked down the corridor, his grip bordering on tight, as if he was afraid she would disappear if he let her go. If she minded the squeeze, she said nothing, but instead moved to lean against him as they strode through the halls.
Time passed, as it always does, and summer moved through and out of Fanelia, bringing the crisp breath of autumn behind it. The King's health had, surprisingly, improved greatly, so much so that the healers had given him a longer estimation, perhaps over two years. This news had bettered Folken's mood greatly, and the mood of the entire palace. The prince seemed almost back to his old self. Balgus had been loath to leave his King, his friend, regardless of his good progress, but the general had a student in Asturia, and felt responsible to return and finish the boy's training.
It was the middle of Grey** when King Goau announced that preparations for the Harvest Festival would begin. Fanelia sprung to life, with parties and feasts being planned, and the entire city being decorated with streamers and ornaments of every colour imaginable. When she asked, Folken explained to Estrela about the celebration,
"After the gathering of the majority of our crops," He had told to her one night over a game of stones and dragons, "The entire country prepares. The festivities differ depending on how far out of the city you go. Here, celebrations start on the twentieth moon of Grey, and continue until the twenty-sixth. There are feasts and parties every one of those nights in the city, and a huge ball in the castle the evening of the twenty-sixth. The public does not attend the ball, but the five nights until then everyone may celebrate in the city, nobility and common alike. Though I have never seen it celebrated in the outlying villages, I've heard that they have a feast and a dance one of the nights between the twentieth and twenty-sixth." He paused, raising his eyes from the game board, "I hope you will be attending the ball, as a royal guest you have that privilege, or rather, I do. . ." He trailed off when he noticed the glare he was receiving. There was silence in the room other than the crackling of the fire. Estrela and Folken sat in one of the rooms of Folken's chambers, a sitting area with several plush chairs, a small, overstuffed chesterfield, the game board, a medium sized hearth, and row upon row of bookcases, each overflowing with a hugely diverse selection of volumes, some older than the prince himself. Folken had been flabbergasted when he learned that Estrela couldn't read common, and had set about trying to teach her. In return, Estrela had agreed to help him translate some of the ancient tomes in the castle's main library from the Old Tongue, and perhaps even teach the prince a bit of the near dead language. She soon learned to watch her random mutters, as Folken would quickly want to know their meanings, many of which Estrela would have rather not repeated. He learned exceptionally fast, and they could now carry on simple conversations in Estrela's native tongue. However, at this particular moment, Estrela felt quite speechless in both dialects.
"Folken, I - "
"Wait," The prince interrupted, "Before you say no. Before you make all the excuses you always make, like about why you can't go to the market or meet visiting nobles or anything like that, just remember how all those arguments ended. You went anyway. Please, save us some trouble this time, just say yes. Come on," and then the dreaded words that always followed, "You'll have fun,"
Estrela felt like banging her head against the board in front of her. Every time it was the same. He would find something, something he knew would make her uncomfortable beyond words, and then try to talk her into going. She would refuse, he would insist. She would decline again, and he would beg. If that didn't break her, he would pretend to be hurt, like she had personally insulted him by saying no, and then she would finally concede. It was torture, being dragged before all those people, their eyes on her, it all made her so uneasy. Folken said it was good for her, that she was too antisocial, and should learn to deal with people. She thought that she could deal with people wonderfully, if only they wouldn't try to kill her or run screaming into the distance when they found out what she was. It took all her skills to convince Folken not to introduce her to people, especially nobles, as 'Estrela das Sombra, the Cisne representative to Fanelia'. He was trying to drive her crazy, Estrela just knew it.
Damn, he had her this time. She didn't want to go, really didn't, but she couldn't prove him right, she couldn't let him think that she was predictable,
"How do you know I was going to say no?" Here goes nothing, "For your information, I would be happy to go. I've never had the chance to dress up before, other than clean breeches and my good shirt. I want to wear a dress, and put my hair up, and have my face painted like a doll," Good Gods above, what had she done? The look on Folken's face was priceless, a mix of surprise, confusion, happiness, and suspicion. When he spoke, his voice reflected all these emotions as well, adding an odd tone to his speech. All in all, it was quite funny,
"You'll come?" Estrela nodded. This seemed to baffle the prince even more,
"Without a fight?" Another nod, "Really?" She would not dignify that with a response. A smile slowly spread over Folken's face, and he pushed away from the game board. "I'll be back, stay here." It was Estrela's turn to look surprised, as the prince stood from his chair and headed toward the chamber doors,
"Where are you going?" She cried after him just as he disappeared out of the threshold. A mop teal hair popped back into the room, revealing Folken's still grinning face,
"To schedule a fitting for your new dress," And the head was gone again. Estrela sprung out of her chair, pulling the door open once again and following the prince into the hall,
"But it's the middle of the night Folken!" She called after his retreating form.
"I'm the crown prince," He threw back over his shoulder as he turned a corner, "It's never too late. Now go back to my room and wait for me, please." Estrela halted as she lost sight of the prince, she couldn't stop him now, she had agreed. Reversing her course to head back to the sitting room, the enormity of what had just happened hit her like a club to the jaw. She had agreed to go to a ball. A public ball. Without a fight. And wear a dress. Good Gods.
AN/ Heh, I like this chapter. Next up, the festival! Yay! Oh, and for those of you who want more Folken/Estrela cutey-fluffy stuff, just wait. As you all know, Folken's life is not want for pain, and I'll tell you now, neither is Estrela's. *cute comforty stuff* Also, next chapter we might find out the origin of all those scars of hers, icky. Oh, I forgot to put this last time, but I apologize for my butchery of the Portuguese language, I blame the little fish. Seriously though, I don't speak Portuguese, I don't know anyone who does, so I have to rely on our dear friends at AltaVista, whom, as most of you must know, are not always accurate. Thanks for your understanding, and pity, and money if you so choose, *^_~* Why then, you may be asking yourself, if she doesn't speak Portuguese, did she choose it, instead of French, or some other language she might know a little bit about? Well, I'm crazy, so there. Later everybody. Peace.
**Grey - September (I would also like to thank Sarah-neko from saving me from being my normally anal-retentive self, and making up a complete Gaean Calendar. Somebody had to do it, and I'm glad it was her *^_^*)