What Might Have Been
By Cybra
A/N: The last chapter I'll have out before I go to Canon Music Camp for a month. Huzzah. Anyway, enjoy!
Disclaimer: If I owned Hey Arnold! and the entire world of Velgarth (which includes Valdemar), I'd be stinkin' rich. I'm not rich, so I don't own them. Hey Arnold! belongs to Craig Bartlett, and Velgarth belongs to Mercedes Lackey.
Chapter 3: Herald's Arrival
Cries of "The Herald is coming!" were unnecessary for the princess to know that her escort had been spotted. The way the palace buzzed with excitement and servants would steal looks out through the many windows alerted Phoebe to the Herald's imminent arrival. Helga had appeared – Phoebe would've thought by magic if she hadn't known that Helga had no Mage Gift – at the first announcement to help her prepare for the Herald. It wouldn't do for this representative of Valdemar to see Rethwellan's Heir less than her best on the first meeting.
Anxious and forcing herself not to chew her nails in anticipation, Phoebe waited with her parents in the palace courtyard. She sensed various servants – all of them temporarily abandoning their work to catch a glimpse of this visitor – watching from every possible window and doorway.
The tinkling of silver bells along with a steady chime as if someone was systematically hitting the cobblestones with another set of silver bells hushed all whispered conversation. Phoebe's chest constricted with anticipation. The Chronicles had always stated that Companion hooves were pure silver. Here was her escort at last.
A graceful white mare wearing blue tack edged with small silver bells floated through the gates. She held her head high with an almost mischievous twinkle in her sky-blue eyes. Just looking at that equine creature told Phoebe that this "horse" knew all eyes were on her and she was putting on a show. The Companion – for this, truly, was what the steed was – seemed to be enjoying herself immensely and was reveling in the attention.
On her back sat a boy no older than fifteen wearing pure white riding leathers. He sat straight in the saddle, perfectly balanced on the Companion's back as if he'd been born in the saddle. Golden locks of hair glistened in the sun, sticking up wildly from the Odd's wide-shaped head. Green eyes, unfocused and yet still aware of what was happening, faced forward to look at the Rethwellan Royal Family.
Gracefully, the Companion came to a stop before the King and Queen. Her Herald slid just as gracefully off her back and stood beside her left shoulder. She bowed her head in respect as her Herald bowed.
"Your Majesties," the Herald said, straightening himself once more, "I am Herald Arnold and this is my Companion Sarabi. It is an honor and a privilege to meet you."
The Companion – Sarabi – nodded her head in agreement to her Chosen's last sentence. If anyone had any doubts about the intelligence of Companions, her actions dispelled those doubts.
Reaching out a hand in friendly greeting, the King of Rethwellan stated, "And a pleasure to meet you as well, Herald Arnold. However, I had the impression that Heralds didn't receive their Whites until they were quite a bit older."
The young Herald chuckled. "Sarabi Chose me very early in life, Your Majesty. I suppose I'm the exception."
Sarabi whickered, a wicked gleam in her eye.
Herald Arnold's eyes unfocused again for a moment before he frowned and – though the princess saw it – subtly kicked out at his Companion's left foreleg. He seemed irritated when Sarabi easily moved her leg out of the way.
"Herald Arnold, this is our daughter Princess Phoebalania," the Queen said, motioning to her daughter to step forward.
The petite girl stepped forward and studied both Herald and Companion a bit closer. Odd how King Martin and his Queen would send someone so young for this job, but she supposed they had their reasons. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Herald Arnold. And you as well, Companion Sarabi."
Sarabi seemed delighted that she had acknowledged her as if she, too, were human. Phoebe made a mental note to not show how uncomfortable talking to something that resembled a horse made her.
"A pleasure to meet you as well, Princess." Judging by the look in his eye, he hadn't used her full name since he probably thought he couldn't pronounce it or remember it right. His eyes glazed over for a moment. "Sarabi says the same."
Leaning her head forward, the Companion studied the princess. She nodded after a few moments as if in approval.
"If you don't mind, Your Majesties," the Herald began, "I'd like to see that Sarabi gets settled in."
"Of course. Simply ask a servant to show you to your room when you are ready to settle in yourself," the Queen told him. "I assume that we'll see you at dinner?"
"Yes, Highness." He bowed to her and turned towards the stable, the Companion following without needing to be led.
Servants dashed back to their chores as the Royal Family turned to re-enter the castle.
Phoebe made a mental note to talk to Helga as soon as she found her.
~@~
"Well…?" Phoebe asked, leaning forward as she and Helga sat on her bed.
The blonde girl grinned. "I envy you. Alone with such a cute boy! How lucky can you possibly get?"
"We're not going to be alone, you know," the princess stated, blushing. "Sarabi'll be there, too."
"Oh yeah." Helga turned slightly red with embarrassment. "I keep forgetting that Companions are as smart as humans are."
"And probably as smart-mouthed, judging by how Herald Arnold tried to kick her!"
Both girls giggled at this.
"Are you sure there's no way for us to switch?" Helga teased.
Smiling, Phoebe replied, "Not unless you can shrink down several inches, turn your hair black, and change your eye color. Not to mention be able to wear a pair of glasses."
"If I kept leaning over and dyed my hair, you think he'd notice?"
The pair giggled again.
"So what do you think of your escort in Whites?" the maid asked, leaning forward and placing her chin in her hand.
The princess thought for a moment. "He seems nice, though he was a bit formal."
"You are the princess, Pheebs, and your parents are the Monarchs."
"I know." Immaturely, Phoebe stuck her tongue out at her friend. "I'm just hoping he'll loosen up."
"I'm sure he will. He didn't seem like the type to be formal around everybody."
Phoebe didn't argue with her friend's assessment. Helga had a knack for judging people and had been proven right many more times than she'd been proven wrong.
"I think he just needs to spend a little time around you in order to stop acting like he has something shoved up his – "
"Don't finish that sentence, please! I'm begging you!" Phoebe placed her hands over her ears and closed her eyes dramatically. "The mental images!"
"All right then." Smirking, Helga straightened herself. "So here's the situation: our fine young Herald is going to stay here for a week before he rides off into the sunset, spiriting you off to Valdemar where we'll never hear from you again." As Phoebe giggled, she continued, "There you'll meet with Prince Gerald who you will fall madly in love with and vow never to leave his side. Insert more mushy romantic Bard ballad material here."
"Helga, you're terrible!"
The pair stared at each other for a moment before falling prey to another fit of the giggles.
~@~
Meanwhile, Arnold leaned back on the cushy bed that his room provided. Sarabi currently resided in a nice large box stall in the stables, a rope tied to the latch so she could come and go as she pleased. He smirked as he remembered the uneasiness of the stable hands.
:I'm going to kill their stud.:
At his Companion's voice, he rolled over onto his side and gazed out the window towards the paddock where Sarabi had planned to do some grazing. :Now, now. It's not nice to kill the property of the people currently providing your oats.:
:You're not the one this stallion's trying to entice,: Sarabi snapped.*
:Just ignore him. He has to give up sometime.:
:Not likely.:
He simply chuckled and settled into a more comfortable position. In his mind's eye, he could see Sarabi giving the offending stallion a withering look before lowering her head to munch on more grass.
:I'm so glad for the fence between us.:
:I'm sure you are.: He smiled before turning serious. :What'd you think of her?:
:Better than we'd hoped for. Princess Phoebalania is precisely the kind of open-minded person we need. According to Barris, this alliance-marriage should work better than even King Martin had hoped for.: She paused. :Besides, I really like her. She seems like a nice and intelligent young lady. Not the most beautiful young woman I've ever seen, but she's still lovely.:
:I'm glad she has your stamp of approval.: He chuckled at Sarabi's mental raspberry. :So you wouldn't mind carrying her?:
:Tell her to only pack the essentials and have the rest sent later. I've seen what a royal baggage train looks like, and I do not intend to become a pack mule!:
:Anything else, Queen of the Hoofed Ones?:
She paused and sent him a mental picture of herself stamping her right front hoof against the ground. :Yes! Get out here this minute, Smart-Mouth! You're overdue for a meeting with the ground!:
*Yfandes had a similar problem when visiting the Ashkevron estate during The Last Herald Mage trilogy. Sorry, Misty fans, but I couldn't resist!
