Before.

By Emily Jennings

Disclaimer: The idea is mine, the characters are based on our Roswell friends, everything else you can work out for yourself!

Note: I know, I know; I don't deserve the reviews or support I got in my first chapter because I'm a lousy author that updates on the next side of never! My sincerest apologise to all those waiting. I beg on bent knees for your forgiveness. This part of the story proved more difficult to rewrite then I thought plus I had loads of personal stuff going on plus I got a severe case of Lazy-i-tus. Sorrrrrry. Please read, review and enjoy…

♥♥♥

Zan needed someplace quiet to do some serious thinking, it was midday and the guests would just be arriving. He was aware that he should probably go along with his parents to greet them but quickly dismissed the idea. The prospect of having to make pleasantries with yet another strange girl did not appeal to him. He stalked across the lawn and walked directly into the entrance of the manor house, doing his best to look inconspicuous.

He didn't doubt that if he was caught wondering idly around the establishment with no apparent aim he would be put to work performing whatever princely duty the nearest servant could concoct for him.

Zan groaned inwardly. Vilandra was making her way down the hall with one or another of her girlish friends and he knew all too well how a meeting between he and his sisters friends turned out; bad. Zan moved into the first available room and scanned the surrounds for a plausible escape route. The main window in this room was half open, making the curtains flutter in the breeze. The Prince jumped over the ledge and onto the lush, green undergrowth on the other side, waiting with bated breath for his sister to pass.

The echoing voices faded into the distance and he began to breathe more easily. Looking critically at the untamed foliage he guessed that he was in the less used area of the gardens behind the house, which suited his pensive mood just fine.

Zan was aware that there was a small clearing up ahead where he and Larek had used to play soldiers as boys. That was in the good old days before Larek's father had died and before Larek had had to return to his homeland to take up the mantle of ruler. Zan sighed regretfully; things had been so simple then.

As he entered the clearing a gentle splashing sound pulled Zan from reverie and away from his thoughts of melancholy contemplation. He was not prepared for the sight before him.

The girl had her back to him. Zan traced her long, wet, brown hair down to the small of her back and continued his inspection down to the creamy white skin of her heels. Her nude form made him uncomfortably aware of the differences of their genders but he found that he could not pull his gaze away from her. He tried in vain to walk away from her but his feet refused to move. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as he laboured fruitlessly, trying to form words that would inform her of his presence.
He refused to admit the simple truth, which was that more then half of his body's unwillingness to cooperate with his mind was because he simply didn't want to.

♥

Eliza turned in the red viscous water and gave a startled yelp, directed at the boy that stood staring openly at her nude figure. Her temper began to rise with indignant fury.

She found, much to her surprise, that just as quickly as it had come, it was now going away. An odd blanket of calm settled around her, effectively subduing what outrage she may have felt towards him. More curious then angry, Eliza wondered how the boy could still not realise that she was looking at him.

"How long have you been standing there?" she demanded. When he didn't seem to realise he was being spoken to she enquired: "Do you always stare so?"

The boy blushed pink. "Sorry." he mumbled. "I don't make a habit of this."

"I should hope not." Her voice was stern and reprimanding but her eyes danced with mirth that revealed her true sentiment. "Fetch me that towel would you?" He blinked as though the question had not registered in his mind and then blushed a deep crimson before turning to retrieve it.

He was not as young as she had first thought, perhaps a little older then herself. His tall, muscular stature confirmed that he was on the brink of manhood at least. The Antarian sun had begun to dip, making its slow descent towards the horizon. His profile lay in silhouette against the beauty of the rapidly declining backdrop and his raven brown hair was brought into vivid contrast with the burnt autumnal sky. Eliza's breath caught in her throat.

Diverting his eyes, he handed her the towel.

The entrancing image was lost immediately but was replaced by one Eliza found equally pleasing.

He had striking features; soulful brown eyes that were framed by long lashes, although they could certainly not be called feminine, and tantalisingly, inviting, full lips. Her stomach fluttered.

Stop this silliness immediately!

She blushed under the full scrutiny of his intense gaze and he blushed in turn. She shivered as a nameless emotion took hold of her and smiled. This would certainly be interesting.

♥

The silence that passed between them was not an awkward one, but Zan felt that he should break it all-the-same.

"I didn't mean to … what I'm trying to say is that it wasn't my intention to …" He gestured towards her scantily clad figure and then looked towards the ground, rubbing the back of his neck in agitation. Eliza smothered a smile with the back of her hand, "Don't worry about it. I won't hold it against you … although I probably should." Zan looked at her and thought he was almost certain she was joking.

"So would you like me to take you on a tour around the house and stuff?"

Eliza looked down at the small towel she was wearing and peered ruefully though the tendrils of wet, chocolate coloured locks that had snaked down her face, partially covering her eyes, "I'm a little indisposed at the moment …"

"Of course, it was stupid of me to ask. What was I thinking?!!" He sat down heavily on a stone bench beside them and put his head in his hands. "It's just not my day today" he remarked forlornly. Eliza stood uncertainly for a moment and then sat beside him, placing her hand on his, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing you could help me with, but thanks anyway." Eliza took her hand away and they sat in pensive silence.

Zan sent a side-ways glance her way and realised he didn't even know her name. "So do you have a name?" he asked more bluntly then he intended. The girl raised an eyebrow in matter-of-fact surprise, "Yes. Why, don't you?" Zan found that he was blushing again. He was doing that a lot lately!

"Sorry. I didn't mean to be rude."

"Eliza."

"Pardon?"

"My name is Eliza" The boy besides her gave a strangled chock, "Princess Eliza? You're a suitor for the Prince?"

Eliza nodded her head dismally and sighed, "Of course I didn't actually know about the whole conspiracy until we were virtually at the palace gates, otherwise I would have absolutely refused under any circumstances to come." She turned to the boy and noticed rather uncomfortably that he was staring at her in utter horror. Hands on hips, she glared at him accusingly. "Are you going to get all weird now you know who I am?" He shook his head and Eliza let out a breath of relief that she had not known she had been holding. "So who are you?"  

Think Zan, think, he ordered himself and drew yet another blank. The last thing he wanted to do was make this girl clam up, and he had a strange suspicion that that was exactly what she would do if he revealed his true identity. "Max!" he exclaimed triumphantly. "Excuse me?"

"My name is Max."

"Oh …that sounds foreign. Where are you from?"

"I've lived here all my life, so have my parents, but we have a long ancestral heritage so it could come from any part of this universe." He wasn't lying either. He had lived there all of his life, his parents had too, and he did have a long ancestral heritage, and he was almost certain that he could not have thought up a strange name like 'Max' all by himself so it must be an old family name he had only just remembered … after all, what kind of a name was Vilandra?

♥

Some time later …

Rath laboured to contain his overwhelming shock as Zan relayed all that had happened with the Princess. However he was finding it increasingly difficult to form a coherent thought as his friend continued with his narrative. The Prince Regent stumbled through the tale often chocking in areas and turning rapidly beet red. Shuddering a deep sigh he flopped mournfully onto a vacant chair and closed his eyes in distress, "So, what do you think?"

"I think your crazy man, real crazy, that's what I think." Rath paced, almost as agitated as his friend. "I knew that whole chivalrous thing was just an act. I mean, no guy can be that romantic and gallant. But even so, I think you may have gone too far. I mean the girl was naked and you just stared!

"I know, I know!" Zan replied, becoming more and more distressed.

"Still, at least we know she fancies you."

"Rath, that is completely ridicu – You really think so?"

"Hell yeah. You're still alive aren't you?"

"Yes but –"

"Exactly! You stare at the girl naked and she doesn't kill you? She's hot for you!!!"

Zan was utterly confused but he placed his faith in his loveable, if a little overzealous, friend. "Weeeell, in that case …" he countered slowly, "If I go to her now and tell her the truth she'll understand and the damage level of this whole … thing, will be contained"

Rath seemed to chock on the breath of air he had just inhaled and stared wide eyed at Zan as though the Prince had suddenly grown an extra head.

"Are you kidding me?!!" he demanded in a strangled whisper, to which Zan frowned and shook his head.

Rath stood and straightened his tunic. He assumed a slow back-and-forth pace across the room and, in Zan's mind anyway, seemed to be prepping himself for the conversation that was obviously about to follow.

He stopped abruptly and with grim determination resumed his seat.

"Listen, what you just suggested was nothing short of suicide, even for you. You have just lied to that girl and if there is one thing that really pisses girls off it's when you lie to them. Now, if we were talking about some Lord's daughter then yes, the damage would be considerable but, the situation would be salvageable. However, we're talking about a Princess and I think that I needn't explain to you that Princesses are in a totally different league of their own!"

Zan was reeling from the carriage load of information he had just received but nevertheless he couldn't help but agree with Rath. After all, he did live with possibly the most high maintenance Princess in the solar system.

"So what am I going to do?" he finely asked. "I mean, she's bound to find out the truth sooner or later!"

Suddenly a horrifying thought occurred to him and he thought that with the tight pain in his chest he was perhaps having a heart attack.

"Oh High Mother of Antar!" he cursed uncharacteristically. "Tonight! At the banquette! She'll be formally introduced to the Court! We'll be formally introduced!"

Rath sighed and nodded in conformation. "It's true your options aren't good but they're options all the same. You can either go to her cambers now and confess and she'll kill you which will undoubtedly throw the planet into civil war, or, she can find out at the banquette where there will be thousands of witnesses and she won't be able to do a thing! The worst she could do is walk out and, let's face it, the only girl who would have enough guts to walk out of the Coronation Hall at the High Palace when a Royal audience was being held would be your sister."

The Prince conceded that her finding out at the banquette must surely be the only foolproof way of her discovering the truth. He, however, still had the feeling of signing his own death warrant.

♥

Eliza had always heard herself exclaimed a beauty but had never believed it. Now she thought she could see a little of where they were coming from.

After she had left Max she had returned to her rooms and the seamstress had turned up as the Queen had promised. Her name was Mira and she had been a plain-featured, kindly woman of middle years.

Usually Eliza could not abide a visit by the seamstress but today she had vowed to make a special effort.

Mira, however, was obviously used to dealing with temperamental Princesses and was extremely entertaining. She had a sharp mind and witty tongue and before Eliza was aware of even starting they had finished and not only did she have an excessive amount of the most beautiful dresses she had ever seen but she knew all the gossip of the local court.

The oval mirror was cast in mahogany and Eliza peered into it examining herself critically. Of all of her new garments this one had been the plainest and was intentionally so.

Since the first settlement on the newly discovered planet dubbed Antar there had been a royal family and it was in that age that Antarian custom was formed.

Custom dictated that all princesses had to be presented as a gift to the heir of the throne in their year of coming-of-age. From these girls the heir would chose his bride and it was for this reason that the candidates could only wear a garment of simplest fashion and no veil or make-up of any kind could be worn. This prevented the heir from being deceived in anyway as to who the girl was and made it impossible for him to wed the wrong girl.

Now, of course, custom had been adjusted so that it was not compulsory for every princess to be 'presented' to the heir but if a princess was introduced to the Court, and thus the heir, she would have to dress according to the old custom.

A tight fitting, long sleeved, cream cotton bodice, which gave her, she suspected, the look of more cleavage then she actually possessed, was embroidered with white silk thread at the cuffs and collar and gave way to a sleek, cream, a-line skirt. A broad, long, white, ripped-silk belt was pulled securely around her waist and tied in a heavily starched, large bow at her lower back leading an excess of the lengthy material to trail as a train.

Her hair had massed atop her head in a lavish expression of chocolate brown ringlets and dainty, handcrafted, silken buds of cream and white were pinned laboriously amid the glossy locks.

A rogue wisp had escaped and set itself neatly beside her right check bringing attention to her captivating hazel eyes, which were, at present, apprehensive, and long dreamy eyelashes. Eyebrows arched like the wing of a bird in mid flight, full rosy lips, flawless ivory skin and naturally pink flushed checks completed her profile.

If any race of beings could make simple look complex it was the Antarians.

Eliza sighed wistfully, wishing that she were meeting the mysterious Max instead of the unknown Prince and did not know she was about to get her wish …

♥

Eliza ventured a side-glance at the young man who was her escort and mused at her shock on his introducing himself as Rath.

It was widely known throughout Antar that Rath was the Prince's best friend and that one day he would be second only to Zan in commanding all of Antar's army. What she found difficult to believe that he was the renowned Princess Vilandra's fiancé.

He was, she admitted, handsome in a rugged kind of way and possessed an air of the great physical strength of a warrior but she had believed that the suitor to the notorious social butterfly Vilandra would be more, well, social.

Finally becoming bored of walking in silence she asked sarcastically: "Is the Prince as charming and animated as you?"

Rath gave a short laugh, "Rather the opposite actually; he's rather like Max."

Eliza barely hid her shock at Rath's acquaintance with Max and was in two minds to question him further or stay quiet and try to master the unbidden fluttering her stomach had given at Max's name. She settled for the latter; there was no time for questions, the entrance of the Coronation Hall was fast approaching and the huge wooden doors were flung open.

The hall was the largest she had ever seen with elaborate and beautiful tapestries depicting famous scenes of Antarian myths and legends, victorious battles and more placid images of renowned monarchs and even pleasant scenery of this planet and others and breathtaking astronomy.

It was Eliza's months of training at finishing school that kept her face emotionless when she felt that she would gasp aloud at its splendour, with only her eyes betrayed her true feelings; glistening with child-like wonder.

There was a large marble dais directly ahead of her path and upon it four intricate thrones dominated. Two were positioned slightly higher than the others and held the familiar figures of the King and Queen who were too far away to see clearly.

On the King's left side a raven haired boy awaited erect in his seat; his features indistinct at her current position. She expected that this was the Prince and at once, it seemed, the hall lost a little of its grandeur because of the realisation.

The forth throne situated almost immediately next to him was left rightfully empty. This seat would only be occupied once the Prince had taken his bride.

The Princess Vilandra did not have a throne in accordance to a custom evoking the right for only the King, immediate Heir and their wives to hold such a position within the hall. Instead she sat on a lesser dais, still raised above the rest of the court, to the Queen's right, facing inwards in a seat overlain with costly silks. Even at a distance Eliza knew the girl had her mother's beauty.

Regretfully, Eliza put aside her fascination so she might gain a better look at the Prince.

She reprimanded herself for allowing images of Max cease her thoughts and became quiet cross when her mind created the illusion that Max was sat on the throne.

The royal four had stood to greet her and soon the whole court followed example. Men and women of rank bowed or curtsied deeply and many of both genders sunk to the ground, both knees bent, and touched their heads to the floor, rising only when she had passed with their right hand on their heart.

Eliza however, oblivious, tightened her grip on Rath's escorting arm and clenched her jaw.

The regal quartet was now plainly visible and Prince Zan, it would seem, had a lot of explaining to do!

♥

Rath guided his charge to the dais and brought her to an appropriate distance from their Majesties. He turned to her petite form, released his arm from her grasp and taking her left hand in his two larger ones forced her to turn towards him.

He could see now that the Princess's hazel eyes lacked the spark of delight they had possessed only moments before and were instead filled with tempestuous anger. Her haughty glare told him that she knew that he knew and that there would be hell to pay.

He, Rath, bowed deeply and brushed his lips against the soft skin of her hand. He looked back into her eyes, his own eyes asking that she understand, and he murmured the words of ceremony: "May the light be with you and bless you and the High Mother grant that you grace these halls for years to come."

It was the first time, of escorting many princesses, that he had spoke those words with real sincerity, and he hoped, not just for his friend, that this time they would come true.

He stepped back, released from his duty, and backed towards his own princess. He stood close on her right and although he did not look down he brought his hand to the arm of her chair and was filled with warmth when she placed her own over it.

He watched warily as Eliza gazed up prettily at the high dais, her gaze now filled with a deceptive innocence. She performed a delicate curtsy and held it in a respectfully demure way until the King finished some carefully scripted words of welcome.

Now, he thought anxiously, all she need do is back away courteously and allow herself to be guided to her seat.

She did not move.

The King frowned noticeably: "You wish to speak Princess Eliza?"

"If I may your highness."

Zan's person became ridge, Rath guessed he was holding his breath and he, Rath, sent a pray to the High Mother.

The King reclined his head in permission.

"I am terribly sorry to inconvenience you like this, however I cannot attend this banquet and ask to be excused." She stated bluntly and before the King could reply she added, "I must also make it known to you that if you try to keep me here I shall walk out anyway."

There was a murmur throughout the hall and a faint gasp of dismay from a woman he assumed was her mother. The King looked to his wife for console and she nodded her head puzzled.

"You may go; however, I am curious and must ask to why you refuse to attend." he returned, clearly confused. Eliza stared at the Prince for a moment and then replied: "I think you had best ask your son."

The whole court turned to the Prince expectantly and Eliza excused herself.

Rath smiled ruefully despite himself and with a new found respect for the brunette mentally retracted his earlier statement to Zan. Perhaps she was as perfect as the Queen and Vilandra; it was just a shame that all prospects of her ever talking to Zan again were shattered let alone any chance of any sort of relationship between the two.

Meanwhile, Vilandra stared amusedly at the spunky brunette that was in the midst of storming out of the room and then at the pathetic form that was her brother.

She watched as her mother dragged him from the room by the scruff of his navy blue tunic, livid with anger. Then a thought hit her so suddenly that she had to blink twice before processing it.

The navy blue tunic was his favourite and he only wore it on special occasions. For somebody who ardently professed to hate these little matchmaking games her parents played today he sure look like he cared.

She shrugged the thought off; her brother had botched it all up some how and the girl wouldn't give him a second glance. Still, she thought regretfully, she would have probably liked this one if she had been given the chance to get to know her.

♥

The Queen shoved her son roughly into a large leather bound chair and flicked her hand towards the doors causing them to crash violently together. Such was her anger that the sheer mental force she had put into closing the doors shattered three of the main windows in the room.

Zan didn't need his mother to speak to know that she wanted an explanation and after righting himself in the chair he began to meekly tell the story of the morning's earlier deception; conveniently forgetting to mention the part where Eliza was naked.

The Queen moved restlessly: she paced, she stomped, she tugged a stray strand of hair, looked menacingly into the mirror, looked menacingly at her son, picked up random objects only to replace them again in the wrong place, and all-the-while the energy of her telekinetic power made the furniture move as if of their own accord so that by the time Zan's narrative had finished he, who had been sitting near the main table at the centre of the room, was now shoved against the back wall.

There was silence.

The Queen looked at her son, opened her mouth as though to speak, closed it, opened it, and closed it again in frustration. She turned forcefully away from him and shattered two more windows without meaning to do so.

"Do you have any idea of the amount of damage you have caused?!" she whispered infuriated. The orbs that were suspended in the air emitting a steady pulsing glow that lit the room flickered tremulously as the force of her power dropped and abruptly climbed again.

The Queen seethed further: "I invite these people to our home as my guests and you disrespect them in such a way that I don't suppose this family will ever be of good repute to them again!"

The Prince at least had the decency to look shame facedly away in disgrace, but the Queen was still not satisfied. "Am I to presume that you don't know who they are?"

This question confused Zan, from the information he had gathered they were a minor family of royalty that were scarcely known to society and he took the chance of saying as much. His mother, who had been about to sit down, jumped up once more enraged.

Flicking her hand towards one of the book selves in the room a large hard backed book made its way swiftly through the air, landing with a thud on Zan's lap. With another small gesture the book flew open and the pages began to flutter rapidly as though caught in the wind, finally resting on the correct page at the tomes centre.

"Do you know who this is?" the Queen asked icily. The picture showed a handsome young man with jet-black hair and striking sapphire eyes. Zan almost scoffed at the simplicity of the question.

"Zavier the Great, the greatest King Antar has ever known." he replied somewhat smug.

"After his death his own nephew refused the mantle knowing he would never be out of his uncle's shadow, leaving our family in direct succession." the Queen carried on curtly. Zan nodded in agreement, still unsure of why this might be relevant.

"Eliza is Zavier's great, great, great granddaughter." his mother said with an air of finality.

The Prince's face turned ashen. Content that her son now understood the extent of the damage he had caused she made her way to leave, in hope of salvaging what she could from the situation that was Eliza and her son.

Before she left she noted that her son was wearing his favourite blue tunic.

♥♥♥

 To Be continued …