Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any of these characters but Nathalie.
Please comment, tell me what you think. This chapter will explain more
about their customs. No flames, please. Also, statements within the :: are
thoughts, as I have yet to learn the HTML required for fanfiction, Thank
you again.
Eisheth's Call
******
Chapter Two: First Encounter
The smile previously rather pasted upon my visage widened, gaining both size and feelings. With a murmured apology to the young man who had inquired over my interest in a dance, explaining the promise briefly, I excused myself from the crowd. He was waiting nearby, his arms crossed behind his back. An impish grin lightened his expression as he caught sight of me, a delighted mischievous glint to his gaze.
It took a great deal of will power not to fling my arms about him. For all of the titles and honor bestowed upon my forbearers, all still follow the precept of Elua: Love as thou wilt. And it was truth that I loved my father.
In addition to being rather wroth with him at this moment, albeit amused.
"Hello Rousse. I thought you were sailing the straits." 'Twas a tradition of ours, to use rather unceremonious titles until one of us laughed. Teeth sinking into my tongue to keep from chuckling, I managed to maintain a polite expression, at odds with the informal tone my voice had taken on. "A lovely thing, sneaked up on your own flesh and blood and not alerting them to the fact they would be attending."
At this the Royal Admiral set his hands upon his hips, imitating my mother- or perhaps me, as I took the stance often. "Oh, have I relatives at this fete? What a pity. I tend to avoid them." His tone belied the insult that may have lay within the coils of his words, a teasing vein running through them.
"I'm afraid you do. And I believe you also owe one a dance, as you so rudely interrupted her other choice's words." I nigh choked back on the laughter, on the surprise. My father had not planned to attend this night- he had been out at sea. How he managed to ride from the coast to the City of Elua with no notice escaped me, but he did not become the Royal Admiral without a semblance of luck.
"Oh yes.I do remember now." Grinning fit to split his face in twain, my father swept me up in his arms in a near bone-cracking embrace. Coughing to allow a trace of air into my lungs a laugh escaped, but from which one I know not. My father set me down before tiny black spots overtook my vision, signaling a lack of oxygen. "Well, shall I claim my dance?"
Eyes watering from the strong hold my father had used on me, I managed a nod. "That is a lovely idea." I replied, and laid the tips of my fingers upon the arm that was proffered. Gravely the Royal Admiral led me to the dance floor, taking one hand and laying the other one at my waist in the correct position, as I rested my free hand on his shoulder.
The dance was a waltz, one both I and my father knew well. I enjoyed this particular dance, for it was not so difficult so that you could not speak. It required concentration for beginners, but I was no longer at that level. Neither was my father, which I was most grateful for; I rather like my feet whole and well.
"How in the world did you get from the Straits to here so quickly without a soul finding out?" I queried as we whirled about the floor, murmurs of approval from the gathered audience. "Mama certainly said nothing." A twinkle in his eye appeared at the mention of my mother, and my eyes narrowed. "You kept it from me!"
A ringing laugh echoed from my father, not mentioned upon by others.
"Your mother and I are not senile. We are perfectly able to keep surprises from our own daughter." He replied, rather smugly in my opinion. "The outcasts from the Three Sisters were doing better then expected; 'twas easy to leave the ships under the control of my second hand and race back. Surely it's not a crime to attend my only child's debut."
Glaring darkly at him I said nothing for a minute, my anger entirely mocked. I truly was thankful for his presence and not the least bit mad; after all, it was a lovely surprise. I maintained the look of annoyance for the sake of appearance, before discarding it and turning to other matters.
"That's it for the season, isn't it? The Cruarch is sailing back in a fortnight or less, is he not?" The Cruarch was the ruler of the Albans, who also happened to be married to Ysandre de la Courcel, the queen of Terre D'Ange. Commonly the two spent their summers together and their winters apart, with trips in-between when necessary.
"Ah, yes. Drustan is sailing back quite soon; along with Sibeal and Hyacinthe." Sibeal was the sister of Drustan, the mother of his heirs; the Albans employed a system where the sister-son inherited the throne, not the son of the current Cruarch; it was the cause of a war which divided the Albans just about 19 years before. Hyacinthe..
About him, there are stories written.
Many years back, the Straits had divided Alba and Terre D'Ange; nearly no ship could cross them. When Phedre no Delaunay and Joscelin, the Courtesan and the Cassaline I had seen earlier, had endeavored to reach Alba and return to Terre D'Ange, they had been brought to the Three Sisters, a group of Islands which housed the Master of Straits.
To go on they had to answer a riddle; Phedre answered it, but the half Tsingano lad Hyacinthe, using the powers of the dromonde, to look into the future and past, to answer more completely. Phedre and the others left the island. Hyacinthe stayed, and became Master of Straits. Committed to freeing him, Phedre finally did, 9 years past. He married Sibeal, and all had been well enough since then, except for occasional bouts of slight madness, in which the most fantastic of storms would be created by his power.
The waltz ended all too quickly, my father bowing to me as he chuckled.
"Now that I have taken my promised dance, I have other business to attend to..another Lady of Marsilikos to find." A wolfish grin overtook his visage, along with an up to this point suppressed glint of longing. "Until next time, Marsilikos."
"Indeed, Rousse." Fondly I watched his thread his way through the throngs of people, searching for my mother. I idled there for a moment before drifting off, the numb sensation settling upon my mind once more. A lad asked me to dance; I obliged, thankful for my dancing instructor whom had drilled the steps so deeply into my brain I could follow without thinking. Another dance, another partner, my senses fading to merely a swirling of color, of faces filed away but lost names.
It was about this time, when my parents managed to find and kidnap me, whisking me away from the dancing floor. Again I was thankful when a feeling entered my mind, and then promptly discarded any such grateful feelings.
With my parents were the Comtesse de Montreve, Messire Joscelin Verreuil.and Imriel. ::I rather liked the frozen feeling.:: I thought, curtsying to the three of them. I had spent a decent amount of time about the Queen, Cruarch, Dauphine, and Princess, and thus was passably well acquainted with them. But these three...
Not only stories are written about them; they are legend. Imriel's true parents- traitors to the throne, Benedicte de la Courcel and Melisande Shahrizai de la Courcel, they are in many a story. His foster parents, Phedre and Joscelin.
I do not have the words to explain their story; I have not the time nor room to inscribe upon these pages the list of all their magnificent adventures. 'Twas enough for the Queen to grant Phedre the Companion's Star- allowing her the right to address Ysandre by name in public and granting her rights above anyone else. My parents, while quite close to the two, did not have me around whilst they were accompanied by them. And so I knew only of legend, nothing of their real persons. They meet such stories with ease, and that is perhaps what started the nerves fluttering about in my stomach again.
Or it could have been Imriel. Either way, they began to resurface. A merry tune was struck up by the musicians, and my father offered his arm to Phedre, who accepted it with a smile. Joscelin took my mothers arm.leaving me alone with Imriel. Following the course set by our parents, the Prince offered me his arm, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile.
"May I have this dance?" The words were customary, and I accepted with a nod of my head, placing my fingertips lightly on the surface of his coat. He was garbed in midnight blue, accenting his sapphire optics and raven- black hair. Leading me skillfully to the dance floor he bent his head forward to murmur something in my ear, as he was a good foot above my own 5'3" stature.
"Nathalie de Mereliot, we have not met before, have we?" His tone was amused, though it did not in anyway seem rude. I paused before shaking my head.
"No, I do not believe we have, Imriel no Montreve de la Courcel." I replied, employing his full name as he had used mine. I did not incorporate my fathers name into mine- he had chosen to leave my taking his name up to my own discretion, when I reached the age of 18. Imriel made a face at the name, laying one hand at my waist and another on my shoulder as I did the same to him.
"I prefer Imriel, or Imriel no Montreve. The 'de la Courcel' I would drop, if I was allowed to do so." He said with a scowl, beginning to run through the steps. I followed easily; he was taught very well, and it was not hard to keep his lead.
"Then Nathalie will do. Or Mereliot, as some are wont to call me." I decided against commenting upon his dark remarks aimed at his true parents, even as the gray foam rose in my gaze once again. Blinking it back was to no avail; but it blew off after a moment, as if a breeze had lifted it. I would have taken it into puzzlement, but I had not the time; Imriel was speaking once again.
"If you will call me Imriel, I will call you Nathalie, then. Our parents seem to be close enough to use first names." He gestured towards our relatives, and I again noticed his wording deliberately shunning his parents, though there was no bitterness in his tone.
"I will do that, Imri-"
My voice was cut off by a tremendous crash of china and crystal, echoing throughout the hall. Immediately screams rose from the ladies and not just a few men, either from horror, fright, or annoyance at being interrupted. Another smash and I was jerked down to the floor along with Imriel. I hadn't the presence of mind to see who it was at the time; my concentration was upon the screams. It was Joscelin, who had brought out his daggers, and now crouched down over Phedre and near Imriel, warding both with his weapons, I learned later.
I hadn't the time to even glance at it later; for an agonized shriek tore through the room, echoing off the rafters.
A dying being's scream.
((Please review/comment, I would really appreciate it. Thankies!))
Eisheth's Call
******
Chapter Two: First Encounter
The smile previously rather pasted upon my visage widened, gaining both size and feelings. With a murmured apology to the young man who had inquired over my interest in a dance, explaining the promise briefly, I excused myself from the crowd. He was waiting nearby, his arms crossed behind his back. An impish grin lightened his expression as he caught sight of me, a delighted mischievous glint to his gaze.
It took a great deal of will power not to fling my arms about him. For all of the titles and honor bestowed upon my forbearers, all still follow the precept of Elua: Love as thou wilt. And it was truth that I loved my father.
In addition to being rather wroth with him at this moment, albeit amused.
"Hello Rousse. I thought you were sailing the straits." 'Twas a tradition of ours, to use rather unceremonious titles until one of us laughed. Teeth sinking into my tongue to keep from chuckling, I managed to maintain a polite expression, at odds with the informal tone my voice had taken on. "A lovely thing, sneaked up on your own flesh and blood and not alerting them to the fact they would be attending."
At this the Royal Admiral set his hands upon his hips, imitating my mother- or perhaps me, as I took the stance often. "Oh, have I relatives at this fete? What a pity. I tend to avoid them." His tone belied the insult that may have lay within the coils of his words, a teasing vein running through them.
"I'm afraid you do. And I believe you also owe one a dance, as you so rudely interrupted her other choice's words." I nigh choked back on the laughter, on the surprise. My father had not planned to attend this night- he had been out at sea. How he managed to ride from the coast to the City of Elua with no notice escaped me, but he did not become the Royal Admiral without a semblance of luck.
"Oh yes.I do remember now." Grinning fit to split his face in twain, my father swept me up in his arms in a near bone-cracking embrace. Coughing to allow a trace of air into my lungs a laugh escaped, but from which one I know not. My father set me down before tiny black spots overtook my vision, signaling a lack of oxygen. "Well, shall I claim my dance?"
Eyes watering from the strong hold my father had used on me, I managed a nod. "That is a lovely idea." I replied, and laid the tips of my fingers upon the arm that was proffered. Gravely the Royal Admiral led me to the dance floor, taking one hand and laying the other one at my waist in the correct position, as I rested my free hand on his shoulder.
The dance was a waltz, one both I and my father knew well. I enjoyed this particular dance, for it was not so difficult so that you could not speak. It required concentration for beginners, but I was no longer at that level. Neither was my father, which I was most grateful for; I rather like my feet whole and well.
"How in the world did you get from the Straits to here so quickly without a soul finding out?" I queried as we whirled about the floor, murmurs of approval from the gathered audience. "Mama certainly said nothing." A twinkle in his eye appeared at the mention of my mother, and my eyes narrowed. "You kept it from me!"
A ringing laugh echoed from my father, not mentioned upon by others.
"Your mother and I are not senile. We are perfectly able to keep surprises from our own daughter." He replied, rather smugly in my opinion. "The outcasts from the Three Sisters were doing better then expected; 'twas easy to leave the ships under the control of my second hand and race back. Surely it's not a crime to attend my only child's debut."
Glaring darkly at him I said nothing for a minute, my anger entirely mocked. I truly was thankful for his presence and not the least bit mad; after all, it was a lovely surprise. I maintained the look of annoyance for the sake of appearance, before discarding it and turning to other matters.
"That's it for the season, isn't it? The Cruarch is sailing back in a fortnight or less, is he not?" The Cruarch was the ruler of the Albans, who also happened to be married to Ysandre de la Courcel, the queen of Terre D'Ange. Commonly the two spent their summers together and their winters apart, with trips in-between when necessary.
"Ah, yes. Drustan is sailing back quite soon; along with Sibeal and Hyacinthe." Sibeal was the sister of Drustan, the mother of his heirs; the Albans employed a system where the sister-son inherited the throne, not the son of the current Cruarch; it was the cause of a war which divided the Albans just about 19 years before. Hyacinthe..
About him, there are stories written.
Many years back, the Straits had divided Alba and Terre D'Ange; nearly no ship could cross them. When Phedre no Delaunay and Joscelin, the Courtesan and the Cassaline I had seen earlier, had endeavored to reach Alba and return to Terre D'Ange, they had been brought to the Three Sisters, a group of Islands which housed the Master of Straits.
To go on they had to answer a riddle; Phedre answered it, but the half Tsingano lad Hyacinthe, using the powers of the dromonde, to look into the future and past, to answer more completely. Phedre and the others left the island. Hyacinthe stayed, and became Master of Straits. Committed to freeing him, Phedre finally did, 9 years past. He married Sibeal, and all had been well enough since then, except for occasional bouts of slight madness, in which the most fantastic of storms would be created by his power.
The waltz ended all too quickly, my father bowing to me as he chuckled.
"Now that I have taken my promised dance, I have other business to attend to..another Lady of Marsilikos to find." A wolfish grin overtook his visage, along with an up to this point suppressed glint of longing. "Until next time, Marsilikos."
"Indeed, Rousse." Fondly I watched his thread his way through the throngs of people, searching for my mother. I idled there for a moment before drifting off, the numb sensation settling upon my mind once more. A lad asked me to dance; I obliged, thankful for my dancing instructor whom had drilled the steps so deeply into my brain I could follow without thinking. Another dance, another partner, my senses fading to merely a swirling of color, of faces filed away but lost names.
It was about this time, when my parents managed to find and kidnap me, whisking me away from the dancing floor. Again I was thankful when a feeling entered my mind, and then promptly discarded any such grateful feelings.
With my parents were the Comtesse de Montreve, Messire Joscelin Verreuil.and Imriel. ::I rather liked the frozen feeling.:: I thought, curtsying to the three of them. I had spent a decent amount of time about the Queen, Cruarch, Dauphine, and Princess, and thus was passably well acquainted with them. But these three...
Not only stories are written about them; they are legend. Imriel's true parents- traitors to the throne, Benedicte de la Courcel and Melisande Shahrizai de la Courcel, they are in many a story. His foster parents, Phedre and Joscelin.
I do not have the words to explain their story; I have not the time nor room to inscribe upon these pages the list of all their magnificent adventures. 'Twas enough for the Queen to grant Phedre the Companion's Star- allowing her the right to address Ysandre by name in public and granting her rights above anyone else. My parents, while quite close to the two, did not have me around whilst they were accompanied by them. And so I knew only of legend, nothing of their real persons. They meet such stories with ease, and that is perhaps what started the nerves fluttering about in my stomach again.
Or it could have been Imriel. Either way, they began to resurface. A merry tune was struck up by the musicians, and my father offered his arm to Phedre, who accepted it with a smile. Joscelin took my mothers arm.leaving me alone with Imriel. Following the course set by our parents, the Prince offered me his arm, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile.
"May I have this dance?" The words were customary, and I accepted with a nod of my head, placing my fingertips lightly on the surface of his coat. He was garbed in midnight blue, accenting his sapphire optics and raven- black hair. Leading me skillfully to the dance floor he bent his head forward to murmur something in my ear, as he was a good foot above my own 5'3" stature.
"Nathalie de Mereliot, we have not met before, have we?" His tone was amused, though it did not in anyway seem rude. I paused before shaking my head.
"No, I do not believe we have, Imriel no Montreve de la Courcel." I replied, employing his full name as he had used mine. I did not incorporate my fathers name into mine- he had chosen to leave my taking his name up to my own discretion, when I reached the age of 18. Imriel made a face at the name, laying one hand at my waist and another on my shoulder as I did the same to him.
"I prefer Imriel, or Imriel no Montreve. The 'de la Courcel' I would drop, if I was allowed to do so." He said with a scowl, beginning to run through the steps. I followed easily; he was taught very well, and it was not hard to keep his lead.
"Then Nathalie will do. Or Mereliot, as some are wont to call me." I decided against commenting upon his dark remarks aimed at his true parents, even as the gray foam rose in my gaze once again. Blinking it back was to no avail; but it blew off after a moment, as if a breeze had lifted it. I would have taken it into puzzlement, but I had not the time; Imriel was speaking once again.
"If you will call me Imriel, I will call you Nathalie, then. Our parents seem to be close enough to use first names." He gestured towards our relatives, and I again noticed his wording deliberately shunning his parents, though there was no bitterness in his tone.
"I will do that, Imri-"
My voice was cut off by a tremendous crash of china and crystal, echoing throughout the hall. Immediately screams rose from the ladies and not just a few men, either from horror, fright, or annoyance at being interrupted. Another smash and I was jerked down to the floor along with Imriel. I hadn't the presence of mind to see who it was at the time; my concentration was upon the screams. It was Joscelin, who had brought out his daggers, and now crouched down over Phedre and near Imriel, warding both with his weapons, I learned later.
I hadn't the time to even glance at it later; for an agonized shriek tore through the room, echoing off the rafters.
A dying being's scream.
((Please review/comment, I would really appreciate it. Thankies!))