Chapter 4: Fighting Has Never Been More Fun...or More Frustrating
~*~ Heart's Storm ~*~
Sparks flew and thunder crashed overhead as their lips met. As they pulled back and stared into each other's eyes in dazed confusion, a downpour suddenly soaked them through, and rather breathlessly, Sylvain remarked, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't the skies clear before?"
Laughing rather shakily, Ardice quickly drew away. Her heated cheeks felt as if they were on fire, and she wanted to sing in exultation and cry in despair at once. She barely knew him, but she felt that after just one breathtaking, startling kiss, that she would be happy to stay with him in that tranquil setting forever. The cool practicality of her mind reduced her to hopelessness: of course they wouldn't stay in the garden, particularly when it was pouring, and she had just kissed a Terran. The fact that he was a general made it even worse. Turning her face away, Ardice avoided his searching, soulful eyes and resisted the need to bury her face in her hands and cry.
"Ardice. Ardice, please."
She got up and began wringing out her skirt vigorously, still looking away from him. She flinched when his hands carefully turned her face back towards him. When her eyes met his, worried but hopeful, she knew she would never be able to say no to anything he asked of her, and she hated it.
"Are you angry? Please don't be mad. I didn't mean to be so forward, but I thought...I thought..." Sylvain was surprised to find himself at a loss for words. He wasn't as adept at charming the ladies as Pyralis was, but he had never been so tongue-tied with one of them. She was different; he could feel it, and the touch of her lips tingled over every part of his body. "I apologize."
"There isn't anything to apologize for." She smiled hesitantly at him, and he returned the favor. "But, you know....this mustn't happen again, Sylvain. We barely know each other, and I don't know who you are, really. You don't know who I am. And besides, I'm not even supposed to be here. Anything and everything is overheard and overlooked in a castle such as this one, and gossip, whether it's warranted or not, spreads like wildfire. Something like this would ruin you. You don't know my background, and I'm questionable as it is. And I'm supposed to be your prisoner." Ardice reeled off her excuses with rapid coherence, although her head felt foggy and muddled, an aftereffect of their astonishing kiss.
The brown-haired general had been looking solemnly subdued and understanding until that last point. He leaped up from the bench, where he had been looking up at her, and grasped her hands emphatically. "You are no prisoner."
She laughed rather bitterly. "I'd like to see what your friends Marinel...and...what was that silver-haired man's name? The one that seemed rather like stone?"
"Kun–Roshaun." He caught himself just in time, and she smiled to herself. It look as if her and the other Inner Princesses weren't the only ones who had other names besides their given ones.
"Yes, well, the King-Generals Roshaun and Marinel. And Pyralis."
His night-sky eyes were intense as he regarded her. "What they think doesn't matter–all right, it does matter to me. Very much, in fact. But the point is, this is my home. My palace. And my right."
"So I'm your prisoner, is that right? You're sounding very possessive all of a sudden." Her own eyes sparkled teasingly, although she found the topic of discussion in no way amusing.
"You're very cynical for someone as young as you are."
Ardice lifted one slender eyebrow questioningly and smirked. "You don't know how old I am." More quietly, she added, "I wasn't, once."
"What was that?" Sylvain asked quickly.
"I wasn't, once. Not cynical, I mean." She looked down, and Sylvain looked away. He knew the things that caused pain and strife in the world. His father had been one cause. He was and would be another.
"Getting back to the issue at hand–for the moment, that is–you are not and will never be a prisoner of mine."
She gazed at him disbelievingly until a small, soft smile spread over her features. To himself, he thought that he had never seen anyone lovelier. "Is that a promise?"
"Yes, a promise."
"To last a lifetime?"
He confirmed it with an elegant bow. "To last a lifetime. And beyond, for eternity."
~*~ Avoiding the Inevitable ~*~
The King-General Pyralis drew in his breath as he gazed upon the sleeping woman. Her skin, all of it that had been bared to the harsh sun by her raggedly-torn and stained clothing, was covered in painful-looking blisters of an angry, pulsing red. Her beautiful face, far from serene, contorted like her clenched hands.
Marinel had said that it was lucky for her to survive. He had also warned Pyralis that he should be careful around the stranger, for it was likely that her dreams would be filled with horrible visions and memories that would not fade when she awoke, prone to hallucinations. Under his orders, the blond-haired general had kept her uncovered by any blankets, lest it irritate her sensitive skin, but he had a little fire burning steadily. It was too cold in the Northern Palace for a room to be without a heat source. Roshaun and his predecessors had spent a fortune in purchasing fuel that could only be purchased from more forested areas or very southern parts of the North, and Pyralis's silver-haired commander had celebrated, in a manner, his new wealth when he had taken the throne unexpectedly early by improving the fireplaces for all the palace's occupants, not just his own. He felt guilty thinking about that: Pyralis felt, truthfully, that he had done nothing of that sort or magnitude in his own domain.
But things had been so rushed and confusing after the invasion of the Moon Palace. The old King-Generals had been rather young, as some of their forefathers had gone, and in excellent health. They had all perished in their ambition, and Earth was unsettled with the shifts in power, as was its people. There had been no public declaration and acceptance of the younger King-Generals yet, and the four men did not really hold that distinctive title. The king had not yet seen fit to conduct that ceremony, despite the fact that they were working for him and ruling their palaces with clear command and capability. Pyralis's normally even temper was sparked by thought of the king. He could laugh, simmer, and rage with the best of them–and at himself–but when certain things riled his temper, there was almost nothing and no one that could calm him down enough to see reason.
She stirred abruptly, interrupting his thoughts. Pyralis glanced down at her haggard features and wondered who she was and where she was from. Marinel had given him the distinct impression that he had been unsettled be what he had learned of her during the healing, but he had collapsed of exhaustion right on the carpet (earning himself a very nasty bump on the head from the foot of a nearby dresser) directly after the little information he had managed to impart to Pyralis had been mumbled thickly. He caught his breath as luminous purple orbs opened and fixed upon him dazedly.
"Who...are you?" Her voice was sweet and pleasant, although it was a bit hoarse.
"I'm Pyralis, King-General of the East. I found you in the desert and brought you to the Northern Palace."
Frowning, she tried to sit up but found the effort too immense for her tired muscles. Pyralis noted the quick flash of anger and annoyance across her features and smiled to himself. She must, when feeling up to her normal standards, be a real firebrand. "Why am I here? In the Northern Palace, I'm guessing?"
'She thinks quickly, for someone who recently awoke after a long sleep and only partial recovery from her injuries,' he thought to himself. "It's a long story. In the meantime, I don't suppose you could tell me who you are or where you're from?"
She flushed darkly. "I'm sorry. I don't know where my manners are....I'm...I'm..." She wracked her brain trying to think of who she was and was stunned to realize that she couldn't remember. "I don't know."
"What do you mean?" he asked quickly.
"What I just said! I remember the desert, all hot and shining in the daytime but gleaming and cold at night...having something very large appear above and collide with me...icy greenness, and dark, shadowy dreams. And, of course, talking to you just now. But beyond that, there's just a blank and figments of memories scattered around. I can see places I've been, I think, but they race across my mind and are gone so rapidly. Like lightning." A familiar concept, she realized.
Sadly, Pyralis said, "You must have amnesia. Marinel did warn me, I believe. Severe sunstroke can cause people to forget their identities for a while, but it should be temporary. How long you'll have to remain this way, I don't know, but it's rather inconvenient for the moment."
She glared at him furiously. "I'm sorry to cause you such an inconvenience, your highness. Perhaps the high-and-mighty King-General would find himself less inconvenienced if he spent his precious time elsewhere, playing the brave, rescuing knight in armor!"
He was startled into silence for a few minutes asking, "Are you always this crabby, or is your skin chafing you more than you'd like to admit?" When she opened her mouth to give him a sharp, outraged retort, he grinned cheerfully and swept her an exaggerated bow. "By the way, while you may not recall yours, I, on the other hand, do have a name. You should use it, because I find courtly titles boring and insipid. Of course, if you can't be troubled to remember it–"
"What do you mean, if I can be troubled to remember it?! Of course I know your name. It's Pyralis!"
"Very good. Oh, by the way, the knight in shining armor scenario is a bit outdated now. Do you know how heavy and inconveniencing armor is nowadays? As a matter of fact, I've rescued quite a few people, but none of them needed as much help as you did."
"As much help as I–why, you–"
Pyralis kept smiling. It seemed that she had forgotten about her agony for the moment, which was good. He had seen the look on her face when she had tried to move, and as long as he was keeping her distracted with a rousing fight, it would probably do both of them good. "Admit it, my dear lady, you were close to death and nearly fried alive. You could barely move or even keep conscious when I found you."
"I suppose you think you deserve some kind of medal for that? You're really quite full of it. And I'm not your dear anything!"
"It's not as if I could put in anything besides 'lady,' as you can't seem to recall your name."
"That wasn't the point!" she cried in frustration. Closing her eyes, she tried to think of that name that kept darting out of her reach. Her fury was blinding her, and he was smiling cheekily at her without the slightest hint of being put out. The thought was not only flabbergasting but also insulting. Ignoring him pointedly, a triumphant smile finally spread over the raven-haired woman's face. "Isadora."
Pyralis, trying to regain the breath that her beauty had stolen from him unknowingly, coughed hastily and re-schooled his face to one of expectancy and humor. "Yes? What was that?"
"Isadora. It's my name. The one you said I couldn't remember."
"Quite the contrary. You told me you didn't know it first." Quickly, before she could blow another gasket, the general lifted her hand to his lips, mindful of the blisters and pronounced, "Enchanted, Lady Isadora."
She stared a him for an instance, as if she hadn't seen his like before, until she turned her face away.
After a few minutes, the blond-haired man realized that he was still holding her hand and released it, gently. She drew it back to her, and he said quietly, "I should be going now, to let you rest. I apologize for my rudeness. I didn't mean to provoke you, and my lack of perception made me stay much longer than it was wise to. You must be very tired, and you'll be needing a lot of sleep." Still, she said nothing, and he got up and turned to leave.
"Wait." Her voice was cool and calm, almost a command, for she was too proud to let anyone hear her plead.
Nevertheless, he turned most solicitously and raised an eyebrow. "Yes? A reprieve, dare I hope?"
Isadora bit her lip as she gazed into his bright, azure blue eyes. "No–I mean, not that I don't forgive you–it was my fault in the first place. Both our faults, as a matter of fact. So you don't need to..." She was cut off by his rich laughter and flushed. "It's not that funny. I was wondering...well...are you busy? Never mind. Of course you're busy. You have kingly duties and whatnot. Just go. And thank you."
"You're not getting rid of me that fast. What is it that the lady desires? My time is yours."
"Would you–would stay? Just for a little bit, I mean."
He smiled faintly. "I'll stay until you fall asleep," he promised. Glancing at her as he pulled up his chair once more, he murmured, "You didn't have pleasant dreams, did you? I thought not."
"You must think I'm a baby now."
Pyralis allowed himself to show surprise for a brief instant before locking it away. She had made him show more of his private emotions than he would have liked in only one meeting, and he preferred to keep his mask and happy-go-lucky facade on. "No, never. You've been very brave. Don't think you're the only one who doesn't sleep untroubled."
"You? What disturbs your sleep, Pyralis?"
It was the first time she had addressed him with his name, and he was too taken aback to respond before he realized that she was sound asleep. Rather relieved that he did not have to answer the beautiful stranger that always seemed to demand a truthful answer, he sat and watched her sleep, despite the fact that he had told her he would leave once she slept. His mind was indeed troubled, and here was the time and a person who could help him sort his thoughts out...if he could permit Isadora inside his lonely self and mind as he had permitted no one besides his fellow King-Generals to. It wouldn't be easy, and he didn't know if he had the courage to do it. Looking upon her, he thought that surely, she was the answer. She was promise, hope, and faith.
~*~ Prince of Ice ~*~
Meriel awoke to the soft movement of the gauzy white curtains above her, and she lay still for a moment, gazing at the carved wood of the canopy bed. She felt safe yet caged, enclosed in that little space. Pushing aside the curtain and feeling her bones creak tiredly in complaint, she gasped in surprise when her eyes met the glacial wonderland outside.
It was different from the icy, whirling darkness that had nearly taken her to the realms of the dead. It was bright and sunlit, although still inhospitable with secrets understood only by those that loved the harsh barren land of the North for what it plainly was: a land of ice, of miracles, and of unworldly things.
Suddenly, she heard a commotion close by, outside her door, and hurriedly made her way over to listen. Several times, she had to stop and steady herself on a nearby piece of furniture and wait until the dizziness faded. Snippets of indistinct conversation reached her ears, all of the speakers sounding quite anxious:
"The ambassador...yes, of course, from the king–who else?"
"But he's asleep!"
"Did no one tell the envoy? He collapsed after a healing and isn't well. He isn't even conscious. If he was, he would be insisting on getting up and seeing the man immediately."
"Well, we've only given out the information that he's 'currently indisposed.' Imagine what the king would say if he found out the real nature of his collapse."
"Can no one talk to him?"
"The man is mad...well, perhaps not mad, but clearly one of those arrogant bulldogs the king keeps to lick his shoes by the throne...lives in the royal kennels, of course." Here, disdainful laughter was heard from the speakers. Then the topic of discussion was resumed with due haste and anxiety.
"Yes, but still...can no one else speak to him?"
"He refuses to speak to anyone except the highest nobility. King Pyralis cannot be found anywhere, and..."
"What about his cousin? The one who appeared so mysteriously yesterday or so?"
"Now, you know his highness gave orders that she was not to be disturbed...she's been sick as well. I doubt she's even awake. Prince–I mean King Marinel said to watch her carefully to make sure she doesn't overexert herself or get out of bed. The fire in her room is kept high...windows tightly shut..."
"We need someone to talk to him!"
She had heard enough. Apparently, the man who had saved her from death needed help–at least, his subjects did–and she knew perfectly well how to speak to pompous emissaries, having plenty of practice on the Moon. All she needed was to put on her cool social mask and some proper clothing. Better health would, of course, have been a definite plus, but she had learned not to ask for unreachable things.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
A half an hour later, Meriel was looking at her reflection in a floor-length mirror. Its frame was ornately-shaped silver, and she reached out to grasp the edges. Their firm, solid coldness brought her down to earth once more, clearing her mind. In the extensive wardrobe, she had found feminine garb of all sorts and had chosen a tasteful and elegant dress. Its only inadequacies were the color and the fact that it was not the warmest of garments.
Meriel plucked helplessly at the dark crimson dress. Her coloring was hard to match to clothing, but this had been the only wearable dress in her size. Some she had tried on and found herself drowning in yards and yards of material; others were so low-cut or high-slit that she was embarrassed to even look at them for long. Among her friends, she figured that the gown would best compliment Isadora or possibly Kiora, in a pinch. The dress was still a bit long, but she figured once she had heels on, it would be the appropriate length.
She rang for a servant, and the maid that appeared promptly could not have looked more shocked to see the previously bedridden woman out of bed and dressed for court. However, she was used to the close-mouthed ideals of Roshaun, and merely curtsied (using the time to compose her face). "My lady, you called?"
"Yes. Would you please find me some shoes to match this dress?"
"Yes, of course, my lady. Anything else?"
"Is the ambassador currently in residence? If he is, please direct him to a convenient chamber and tell him that I will be with him shortly."
"He is, my lady. And I will do as you requested."
"Thank you very much." Sitting down to wait, Meriel nervously fussed with her hair and tried to keep calm. She actually knew quite a bit about the Northern Palace, as much as any non-Terran dweller could know, but she was still unsure of her competence in passing herself off as Marinel's cousin. Of course, she could excuse her ignorance on a few political issues of Earth, but she prided herself on knowing the most important ones. She just hoped that she wouldn't give anything important away.
There were several reasons for her involvement in Marinel's duties. For one thing, she owed Marinel for saving her life. For another, she needed to keep her true identity a secret and support her role as the Western Prince's cousin. Lastly, she might learn news, any word at all, of the queen and the Outer Princesses.
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
When Marinel finally awoke, woozy and still extremely weary, he was enlightened of certain events. Feeling a migraine coming on, he dressed as quickly as possible, nearly forgetting to comb the snarls out of his mess of hair before striding through the halls as quickly as possible. His basic strength had replenished itself, but he knew his power was nearly at an all-time low. Although he had just been alerted of the current conversation ensuing between the diplomat and his "cousin," his mind was already working at a pace much faster than what was considered normal for many other people.
Brushing past surprised guards and ignoring several calls of his name and title from various retainers, the blond-haired man managed to arrange his features into a mask of neutrality and coolness as he paused before the closed double doors. When he stalked in, the sight that met his blazing green eyes was astonishing.
The ambassador was a man he knew, unfortunately, and loathed. He was a pompous human lapdog of the king and tended to make Marinel and his three comrades feel as if they didn't deserve their positions, as they hadn't really been acclaimed. Not only was he a dishonorable, lying snake who felt that anyone beneath his station was nothing and nobody, undeserving of his superior attention, his disrespect and maltreatment of women was known across the five lands. However, he actually looked cowed and rather defeated, listening closely to the points that Meriel appeared to hammering home with well-hidden glee and enjoyment. Marinel smirked to himself. He knew a born politician that enjoyed her work when he saw one. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite ready to forgive his impromptu guest for leaving her bedchamber. "Excuse me, my lady cousin, my lord."
They looked up instantly, and a flush spread over both their faces. Meriel looked guilty; the sleek-haired, slippery man of the honey-tongue vanquished and caught off-guard.
"Your highness–"
"My lord–"
"As always, it's a pleasure to see you, my lord," he interrupted smoothly, "and you're very welcome in the King-General Roshaun's home–or any of the other King-Generals' domains. Of course, I'm eager to hear any tidings you've brought, but I'd like a word with Lady Meriel first." Offering her his arm with a silencing air of ice, he said, "Excuse us for a moment, my lord." As they left, the general cast the man a backwards glance and was surprised to see him watching Meriel's every move. Once they were safely out of his range of hearing, Marinel hissed, "What do you think you're doing?!"
She glowered at him with equal anger. "So nice to see you're awake, at long last. You could have had the dignity of thanking me."
"What for?"
"You were worn out from healing, the servants were in a flurry over what to do about himself over there, and they couldn't find anyone to deal with him."
Marinel scowled darkly. They had forgotten to mention that to him. "Well, where in all hells was Pyralis?"
"I don't even know who Pyralis is! They said they couldn't find him."
"Oh. I apologize," he said brusquely. "I'm just a bit behind on events, and it irks me. And you were supposed to stay in bed."
She sighed and leaned against the well, all the vigor from her argument draining from her. Looking up at him tiredly from under long eyelashes, she replied, "I didn't have much of a choice. Don't worry–he really doesn't have anything important to say, and I don't think I've done too much damage."
Eyeing her perceptively, Marinel accused, "You've worked in government before."
Meriel shrugged, blue eyes lightening with better humor. She was tired, cranky, and didn't want to deal with a crabby King-General she barely knew. At least he seemed to be backing down a bit. "So have you. I assume you'd like to over from here?"
"You're going to fall over if you don't rest, and I'm perfectly capable of dealing with that arrogant good-for-nothing. He's not even ornamental."
She smiled brightly, but the smile faded quickly as her eyelids sagged wearily. Before she knew what was happening, she was swept into the warm, strong arms of the one she had dubbed the prince of ice. Trying to keep her eyes open, she muttered, "I can walk. You need to go and talk to him. He'll wonder what's going on."
"I have a perfectly legitimate excuse. Now stop fussing. By the way, it would make things easier if you would stop holding yourself so stiffly. I'm accustomed to carrying much heavier things." When she finally did relax, he added, "We're about to go up the staircase now, and I'd prefer it if you were in a less precarious position. Put your arms around my neck, please."
Meriel opened her eyes wide and looked up at him, a dark crimson color spreading over her cheeks. "What?"
The general sighed and paused, glancing down at his light burden. "I said, we're going up the stairs, and I don't think you'd like me to drop you. So do as I asked, please."
Blushing furiously, she did as he asked, and they proceeded up the stairs. By the time they reached her room, she was already asleep. Marinel's deftly-carved features had an unusual softness to them, as well as a pale flush. When he set her down on the bed carefully, he drew the sheets over her body warmly and checked the fire. Before he left, he lingered for a few minutes, engraving her peaceful expression in his memory until he realized what he was doing. And then he frowned. Her breathing was strained, and the air rattled in her throat and lungs. When his power was fully replenished, he would have to take a second look at her injuries. Most of them seemed to be completely healed, but he worried. He told himself it was because he needed to question her about her past and her whereabouts, but Marinel had never been good at lying to himself. He knew there was no point, because he always knew the truth, even when he couldn't admit it.
Returning to the ambassador he had treated like a mere messenger, Marinel explained, "Please excuse my cousin. She is just recovering from a recent illness and tires easily."
"A beautiful and most accomplished woman," the other man praised in an oily tone.
The King-General glanced at him sharply, hearing a note in his greasy voice that he disliked. He sighed to himself: he had forgotten the man's determination to be wedded to a powerful and influential bride that would increase his own reputation and wealth. Sooner or later, he was bound to marry, but Marinel was determined that that woman would not be Meriel. That inward musing settled, he began to make small talk, although his mind remained on other things...
~*~ Falling in Love With Love ~*~
Her own magical abilities had speeded along the final, inevitable convergence of powers, but Kiora alone could never have used the Silver Crystal to teleport–or for anything, in fact, besides an ornament. When she had cradled her princess's hands around the gleaming gem, they had hurtled towards an unknown destination.
As their physical bodies faded from view, they were both prepared for a somewhat rattling but normal teleport that would have taken a few seconds before they found themselves in yet another unfamiliar place. What they weren't prepared for was the jarring collision with a shimmering golden barrier that had appeared out of nowhere, without any warning. Since the teleport's chosen destination had not been reached yet, the combined powers inside the crystal pulsed, endeavoring to push the two through the seemingly impenetrable barrier. Their were forced through, bit by bit, particle by particle, and the pain was unlike any other they had ever felt before. Their torment was fiery hot and burning cold at the exact same moment, and if they had been able to open their mouths, they would have screamed until they had no voice left. The anguish seemed to go one for hours and hours, piercing and ceaseless.
And then, finally, they lay panting and almost sobbing for breath on cool tiles. Before Kiora could even think of moving, she was hauled up in a rough grasp, against a hard and muscular body. She twisted weakly in her captor's clasp, trying to get out of his bruising hold, but she was impossibly tired after pooling what energy she had left to teleport here. Her desperate eyes caught sight of Annamika's dirt-caked hair, its original silvery-blonde turned to mousy brown. The fact that her princess would probably not be recognized was little consolation at the moment, since she was in the grip of an equally large palace guard. Ringing them were at least twenty guards, all uniformly-dressed, equipped with swords, daggers, and spears–which they pointed menacingly at Kiora and Annamika. She searched the otherwise-empty desperately for some sign of where they were, if there was any hope left for them. What she saw made her heart sink further into the lower recesses of her empty stomach: the crowned symbol of Terra was printed all over the walls, and the elegance of the furnishings–including the colored tiles she had been lying on a few minutes before–confirmed her worst fears...they had broken through the barrier into none than Elysion, Terra's capital...and the seat of the King of Earth.
Without any words, the captain–as evidenced by his badge–began dragging her down the hall. When her feet refused to move, he ordered gruffly, "Walk." And she did. All the while, her mind, tired and bruised from the mental effects of the disastrous teleport, was trying to come out with any solutions to her problem. She could barely move, let alone fight. At any rate, even with Annamika's help, she wouldn't have been able to handle twenty well-trained guards that protected the King of Earth himself. She seriously doubted that they would be in any shape to escape from wherever they were about to be taken for several days.
But there was no way she was going to give herself to the king so he could throw her in a dungeon. If Annamika hadn't been with her, she would have committed suicide the minute she had realized she was in the palace–if possible. She refused to be humiliated, dishonored, and handed over like an unwitting animal for slaughter. And then, as her head flopped in the manner of a boneless rag doll as she was towed down the hall, Kiora felt desolation course through her. Numbly, she wondered where her fighting spirit had gone. Years ago, she would never have given up anything she went after. Months ago, she had been determined to trounce Earth for allying with evil. Days ago, she was ready for a weapon to drink the blood of the people who had killed nearly everyone she loved. Now, she was weary and without hope, and it saddened her. She would never have thought of killing herself before. She would thought that before she left any harm come to Annamika, she would have let herself been tortured by the King of the Earth and his lackeys–and she would have laughed at him while he was doing it.
Her world was gone, her family slaughtered, and her friends missing. She had come face to face with living defiance of the values she had been taught to revere, which she had thought were present in all people, what she had fought for...King-General Kunzite Roshaun. Suddenly, anger in her blazed brightly, and her head came up. She didn't know what would happen, but she wanted to face it with everything she had left, a last scrap of pride. And as Annamika glanced over worriedly, she was comforted by the determined look in Kiora's cornflower blue eyes.
'Chin up, sweetheart. Everything will be fine. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you. And I'd die before they could make me leave you.'
'I know. I've always known, and I've always wondered how I could ever deserve someone like you as a friend–because first and foremost, that's what you are to me. Not a guardian, not a fellow princess, nothing like that. And we'll see the others again. We'll be together again someday...'
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Halfway into the throne room, still being prodded and pushed, Kiora suddenly came up with an answer, the only answer she could formulate at the moment. It scared her, and it horrified her. But resolve filled her, and she was willing to do it if it would protect her princess.
'Annamika, listen to me now. Carefully. I have a plan...that may save us. No, keep looking straight ahead. Try to stay behind me a little, show deference, as if you were a servant. Hopefully, it'll keep you in the background. And don't say anything unless you're asked, and agree with whatever I say. Understand?'
'Yes, but...'
'Hush.'
Kiora focused her gaze on the king, trying to form judgement of his personality, of his way of thinking. He had thinning ebony hair and dark blue eyes, so dark that they were almost black. He was powerfully built, but his time seemed to be spent sitting on the throne, since some of his muscle seemed to be reverting to fat. The expression on his face was completely blank and carefully bland. His eyes were heavily hooded, and his nose seemed almost beaklike. There was a waiting in his form, as if he were ready to pounce upon his unsuspecting victims.
Languidly gesturing with a bejeweled hand, he bid the captain, "Let them go. They don't seem to pose much of a threat now, do they?"
"Your highness, they teleported into the main hallway of the palace. Magik is strictly monitored now, and for all it is worth, no matter how they are dressed, they could be dangerous."
"I believe I can handle myself. But summon General Roshaun–and my nephew–here at once."
The man had no choice but to signal two of his men out of the room...and Kiora fell hard upon the floor in front of the massive throne. She scrambled up instantly, but Annamika was slower to follow, and she was glad. Whether it was because the other was tired or trying to fit into her role of servitude, it gave the right impression so far. Straightening herself proudly, she met his eyes look for look, and those observing thought that if they could ignore the state of her clothes–which they couldn't, dirt- and dust-caked as they were–she could almost be nobility, and high nobility, at that.
"Well, well, well...and who might you be, to intrude so unexpectedly–and almost righteously–in Elysion?"
Kiora smiled grimly. Already, as Annamika had fallen back two paces behind her, he was speaking to her, as if he had already calculated that she was the one with the power. "My lord, I am indeed pleased to meet your acquaintance. I'm afraid we've had some trouble along the way, my serving woman and I, and our appearances are a poor reflection upon ourselves. But indeed be assured that I am Queen Kiora of Venus...the fiancee of King-General Roshaun of Earth." She enjoyed the loud gasps that greeted this statement, as well as the reaction of their ruler.
"Impossible!!"
She met his outraged stare levelly. "Do you doubt my word?"
"I doubt everything about you, woman! This is preposterous!"
She raised her chin and looked around the room calmly. "And how many people alive, your majesty, do you think knew about that unlikely betrothal between your general and myself?"
The king had no answer, and try as he might, he could not intimidate her. Just then, Roshaun and Nitesh appeared on the scene, and he greeted them without showing his immense relief. "Nephew, General Roshaun, this woman claims that she is the Queen of Venus–and your fiancee, General Roshaun. Is this true?"
The silver-haired man had been prepared for an imposter, and as the mysterious woman turned to face him, he took in her stature and filthy clothing and began to feel nervous. When she turned to face him, her face bearing one long scratch, barely scabbed over, and a dirt stain, he was given one of the great surprises of his life. Nitesh, on the other hand, said nothing, glancing at his friend sideways.
"Well? General Roshaun? What think you of her claim? It is true that barely anyone knew about the betrothal. Perhaps only myself and your father, and the Venusian rulers."
Coolly, Kiora brought up the subject she had been dreading to broach, wholly ignoring Roshaun. "Not even the Moon Princess knew, your grace."
His head snapped up. "What do you know about the Moon Princess?"
She bowed her head and made tears come to her eyes–it was easy enough. When they spilled over and down her cheeks, she lifted her face again and cried, "She is dead! At your hands!"
"I was nowhere near her," he protested.
"We teleported to the Earth from the Moon the night you destroyed it! She died instantly, from shock!"
Annamika kept her head down, enjoying her friend's spectacular performance.
The king considered this for a few moments. "And the other Inner Princesses? I don't suppose you know where they are?"
"They're all dead," she whispered, more tears coursing down her face.
"Speak up!"
"They're all dead!! The Queen of Mercury...she drowned when we tried to ford a lethal river. The Queens of Mars and Jupiter flung themselves off the cliffs together...and no one could survive from that height."
He inquired, "And why should I believe you?"
"Would I lie about the deaths of my friends? Don't you think I would want them alive with me more than anything else?!"
Roshaun was more than surprised at this late development, but the king seemed to be inordinately pleased, rubbing his hands together and chuckling. He was beginning, for some reason, to feel that the Princess–Queen of Venus–was much smarter than anyway expected...but he wasn't sure why. Suddenly, the king turned to his general. "Well? General Roshaun, what have you to say? Do you believe that this woman is your fiancee?"
Having had enough time to collect himself, he asked, "Why not see when she's cleaned up? You have that portrait of the Inner Princesses–Queens–salvaged from the Moon Palace before it was destroyed. It is rumored that the Princess of Venus, now that planet's queen, was beautiful beyond compare. She was an extraordinarily pretty child. It should be easy to determine from there."
As Kiora and Annamika–who had not been given a second glance by anyone besides Roshaun and Nitesh–were escorted from the room, the king asked, "And if she is the queen, would you marry her?"
He considered it for a few minutes, weighing the alternatives. But the answer he settled on was the one that he had thought of almost instantly. "Without doubt, your majesty."
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Author's Notes:
Sorry for the extremely long wait ^^;;. Unfortunately, I'm not sure this chapter is all that good, either. Do you think I'm rushing things with Sylvain and Ardice? I'm more satisfied with Pyralis and Isadora, even with Marinel and Meriel...and now my dear semi-demi muse, Selene Starre, figured out how to get past the evil hurdle, and now I can finish the chapter! ^^ *big hug for Se* So...overall, how was the chapter? Good, bad? Any hopes? Requests? Guesses as to what's coming up ahead? Just drop me a line or review. Thanks!
~Ice