Ari

Chapter 1 : Meet Ari

"Ari!"

Ugh! Again. How I loath hearing that voice.

"Ari!" the voice called again.

Highly aggravated, I hopped off of my bed and headed downstairs to my sister's room. My stepsister, actually. Lucille. The most awful evil that escaped from Pandora's box. The kiss of death. The plague of men, . . .or mine, at least. She's out to make my life miserable. Her and my stepmother, Helga.

I often wonder why, of all the other eligible women in the world, my father chose Helga to marry. I suppose it is because of my mother's death. Although I was six at the time, I remember everything as if it was yesterday.

My mother was without a doubt beautiful: silky blonde hair, brilliant green eyes, the sweetest personality, and an infectious laugh that charmed everyone she met. Most of all, she and my father was madly in love.

Her death greatly affected my father. He withdrew to his bedroom, refusing to come out or eat anything for days. He became gaunt and depressed; his eyes had a hollow expression as if his soul had been sucked out. My father began to treat me differently, as if I was very delicate and would shatter if he was not careful. I guess I was because he felt he did not want to lose my mother twice. I looked almost identical to my mother; I could have easily passed as her younger self, although I had inherited my father's electric blue eyes and soft brown curls.

My mother's funeral was the worst day of my life. Throughout the day, the mood in our manor was sullen. My father became so dejected that he had almost decided against going to the funeral. Oh how I wished he had not gone to the funeral, for my future stepmother had attended it. I remember that she went up to my father at the end of the funeral, when he was glumly starring at my mother's coffin sitting in the hole, waiting to be buried. She patted his back, murmured in his ear, and even went as far as rubbing his hands.

After that day, she came by the manor almost regularly, always bringing gifts and stopping to comfort my father. She made a point to be nice to me in front of him or our servants, playing games with me or reading aloud a story. I recall noticing a weird aspect of her: how she became curt with me when we were alone, how she almost struck me when I accidentally tore her dress, and how her steely black eyes always glared at me when no one was looking. However, as a young and gullible child, I didn't take much notice. She was rarely alone with me and I always figured that she wouldn't stay too long. But I was wrong. Dead wrong. Helga's visit's became longer and longer. The time she did not spend trying to win me over, she spent with my father. She comforted him, beguiled him with her sweet words, and stuck by him, even in moments when he obviously wanted to be left alone.

Eventually, she convinced him to accompany her outside, to the town or into the forest. I never knew what fake words she said to him during their little outings, but months later, he agreed to marry her.

That had to be the second worst day of my life, after the day of my mother's funeral, for along with a malicious stepmother, I received two foul stepsisters: the nasty Lucille, one year my senior, and Greta the idiot, two years younger than I. They, like my stepmother, created a carefully maintained veil of innocence. It was not until my father's death, a few months later, that I was aware of their evil.

My stepmother would have loved to get rid of me for good, but as daughter of a well-loved duke, she dared not, at least not so soon. She took away all my jewelry and fine dresses, allowing me with dresses not an iota less faded and tattered than servant's garb. She starved me so much that I resembled a walking toothpick, but excused my malnutrition as my attempt at being 'fashionably thin'. I rarely left the manor grounds except for the village to buy food; I was not allowed without permission. Helga exempted my behavior as a side effect of losing both parents in such a short time and that she did not want to force me out in public if I did not wish to in fear of upsetting my unstable emotions. When I was ten, Helga announced that I had died of natural causes resulting from my manic depression. The public accepted her explanation; they had believed me to be insane for many years.

Helga forced me to be a servant in my own manor. She kicked me from my room and moved me to a tall unused tower. I admit that particular action is a blessing; the tower, although it had cracked windows, leaking roof, and about a hundred years' worth of stains and dust, was exactly the kind of room I had wished for. The servants of the house, who sympathized me, helped me clean up the room and make it livable. It is now my sanctuary, my only area of comfort. The room was small, but snug. It only contained my bed, a dresser, and a mirror, but it had four evenly spaced windows that I could open and allow in the refreshing breezes.

"Ari!" The voice called testily.

I deliberately slowed my pace. By the time I reached Lucille's room, she had grown hoarse with yelling.

"What took you so long?" she snapped.

"I was outside and did not hear you." I replied.

"I demand to take a bath." barked Lucille.

'Than take one."

"I want that you fetch me hot water from the kitchen and fill my tub with it."

"Do I look like your personal servant?"

"Of course! You are completely under my control." Lucille said. "I demand that you do it."

"Why me?"

"Because you have to earn you keep?"

"Technically, isn't all the money you're living on my father's? It's my inheritance. So really you ought to be earning your keep."

"Shut up and get me my water!" Lucille yelled at me, tossing her hairbrush.

"Fine." I grumbled, dodging the brush, and left before Lucille could call Helga. It took me half an hour to carry all the water to Lucille's bathroom. When I was finished, she order me to pick rose petals from the garden to make her sweet smelling.

She probably only wants rose petals to cover up her stink, I thought to my self as I left the manor with a basket. In the garden, I met Togalo, our old gardener and one of my close friends.

"Togalo. Hi." I said brightly, forgetting my fight with Lucille.

Togalo looked up from his pruning. "Hello Ari. What brings you to the garden?"

"Must I have a reason to visit my old friend?" I pretended to be insulted. "Actually, Lucille told me to pick rose petals to freshen up her bath." I wrinkled my nose with distaste.

"Not even my prettiest roses will sweeten her personality." Togalo remarked. "But if you must, pick from the inconspicuous ones in the corner."

"I wish I had something to put in, like a plant that'll make her itch or something." I said.

"That's an evil thought." Togalo commented.

"She's an evil person." I retorted.

"True enough. Tell you what. I have a plant that'll make her skin red and blotchy for days."

"Really!" I said, excited.

"Yes. I found it growing in the forest beside that big willow tree. I was going to destroy it, but now I think I've found a much better use. It's the small red plant with round leaves. Just drop the leaves in the water with the roses. Be careful not to touch the leaves, though."

"I will. Thanks Togalo." I cried skipping off to pick the plant.

"No problem, Rina." Togalo called after me.

I found the place Togalo was talking about. It composed of a huge, hundred year old willow tree with numerous branches that formed a thick curtain around the trunk and completely concealed the trunk and anything behind the branches. It was my favorite place outside, my secret hideaway. I use to come here everyday, to mourn for my mother and father. I even snuck cushions here to sit on.

It took me a while to locate the plant Togalo described. At last, I found it, a very short plant that consisted of four pinkish reddish leaves stuck to the ground. I picked the plant using my handkerchief and hurried home. I hastily picked the rose petals, but by the time I rushed up to Lucille's room, I was late.

Lucille was annoyed by my tardiness and, convinced that her water had cooled during my trip, she made me empty the tub and fill it once again with water. I poured in the rose petals and added the plant.

The next day, at breakfast, I noticed that Lucille was unusually annoyed and wearing layers of veils and thick makeup. I discovered my answer while eavesdropping outside Lucille's room.

"Ahhh! My skin. My beautiful skin." Lucille screamed. I heard ceramic shattering.

"Lucille dear. Maybe it was something you ate." Helga comforted her. I heard Lucille scream and a moment later, Helga remarked sharply, "watch where you throw that, young lady."

"Mother! How will I go out in public. It's not just my hands, I could cover that with gloves, but my face. My beautiful porcelain skin is not red and blotchy!"

"You'll just have to wear a veil, darling."

I heard more cries of anguish and items thumping against the walls. "The prince, mother. How shall I face the prince in a veil? He shall not see my beauty."

"Dear, you'll just have to avoid the prince until the effects fade."

"Matilda of Elmswood has invited the prince and some ladies over to her manor for lunch tomorrow!"

"You'll just have to skip it."

"SKIP IT!" Lucille shouted angrily. "SKIP IT! How can I possibly skip it! Matilda that vixen. She's had her eye on Prince Derek. How can I leave her there with the prince! I must be there, to remind him where his true heart lies."

I chuckled silently to myself. This was better than I had hoped for. Lucille was crazy about the prince. He's so handsome. He's so rich. He's so in love with me, she constantly bragged.

"Why don't you try makeup, dear."

"Make up doesn't help. I'm wearing makeup right now and the blotches are still visible!"

"Well I don't know, Lucille. I guess you're going to have to figure something out."

Lucille ended up skipping the party. All afternoon I heard screams and crashes coming from her room. When she finally emerged, puffing and red, I was forced to clean up her room. Everything in the room was broken. All her powder and makeup were spilled on the floor. All the tables and chairs were upturned. One chair even had a broken leg. Her vanity mirror was cracked. All her vases were broken and their flowers littered the floor. The books were swept from their shelves and the blankets were pulled off of her bed. All the chests were open and their contents scattered about the room.

As I was cleaning up, Togalo walked by. "Had another one of her tantrums, did she?"

I nodded. "She couldn't go to some party because she had blotches on her face."

Togalo laughed. "Serves her right. Anyway, I found some itching weeds at the northwest corner of the meadow. It dries well and can be ground into powder." Togalo winked and left.

The next day, once I had finished my morning chores, I hurried to the meadow to pick the itching plants. The meadow was beautiful. It was created by deforestation so it lay adjacent to the woods. Flowers invaded the meadow and mingled with the sweet smelling grasses. I couldn't resist plucking an orange blossom and placing it in my hair.

I quickly found the tall itching weeds and picked all the ugly green leaves. As I tucked away my handkerchief full of leaves, a huge gust of wind blew the orange blossom from my hair.

Across the meadow, a young man that I had not previously noticed left the cover of the forest and dashed across the meadow to catch my flower. He caught the blossom and made his way towards me.

"Is this yours?" He asked.

I nodded, accepting the flower. "Ari."

"I'm Derek." The man said. He looked to be about three years my senior. He had blond hair and sparking green eyes. Judging from his attire, he was rich."I —"Derek cut off as footsteps were heard in the forest. "It was nice meeting you, Ari. It really was. But I've got to go."

Without waiting for my reply, Derek hurried away, dashing to the cover of the trees. A moment later, two soldiers appeared from the forest.

"Where could he be?" One of them said anxiously, scanning the horizon.

"I don't know. I'm positive I saw him running this way." The other answered.

"I don't believe he gave us the slip. Again."

"We've been looking for hours. Hey, who's that over there."

The two men headed over to me. "Lass, have you seen the prince? Tall, blonde hair, green eyes."

I shook me head. The men turned back to each other. "Let's just head back. He'll turn up by nightfall. He always does."

I stood still as the men hurried away. Something in their description was familiar. Of course! I thought to myself. They were looking for Derek. Did they say he was the prince! I thought as I slowly walked back to the manor, still somewhat stunned by my discovery.

Several days later, I stood in the kitchen washing the dinner dishes with Hanna, the cook. Yvette, the timid maid entered periodically with dirty dishes and Beth, the other maid, was no where to be seen. After all my years of living in this household, I was only acquaintances with the all the servants. With the exception of Togalo, I guess I never clicked with any of them. We say hello, good bye, and maybe light conversation if we're working on the same task, but that's about it. I never see them for social reasons.

It was late at night when I was finally released from my duties. In my tower, as I prepared for bed, I heard clicking on one of my windows. I slid open the window and in hopped a large brown hawk.

"Hank." I greeted as he settled on him headboard and straighten the feathers that had been knocked askew during his entrance. "Haven't seen you all day."

"I've been hunting." The hawk replied. "With all this deforestation and disruption of the forest ecosystem, it's a miracle I'm able to sustain myself here." This hawk, Hank, was my guardian sent to me by my wizard godfather. He was apparently too busy with is experiments and spells to watch me, so he sent his pet hawk to keep an eye on me. Hank came to me on the day my father married Helga. I had been crying under the willow tree when the hawk flew down to me. At first, I was surprised to find a talking hawk; even at my young age I knew speaking birds were uncanny. The hawk turned out to be harmless. He moved into an abandoned alcove behind my room and spent his time inside my room when I was present. The best part was that he was fully housetrained. Accept for a few feathers and maybe a musty smell, he left no signs of his presence.

"There are always the mice in the barn. I'm sure old Togalo would let you." I said. Togalo was the only other being aware of Hank's existence.

"There's no flying room in the barn. Besides, then I have those nasty overweight felines to worry about." Hank replied with disgust.

I chucked. Hank had hated cats every since he stupidly challenged one was a baby and lost all dignity and respect. "Actually, I think the cats are kinda cute." I said.

Hank snorted and muttered furiously under his breath. "I don't expect someone who lives in this room to have any taste." He snapped.

"Well you sleep on a nest of sticks." I retorted.

"My nest has color. You have a gray bed, a brown dresser, a gray floor, and a brown blanket." The hawk said, flapping his wing as if pointing.

"Your nest is comprised of brown sticks and brown feathers."

"My nest has red, green, blue, white, shiny; virtually all the colors."

"How?"

"I'm a collector. I collect stuff."

"I want to see your nest sometime."

"You can. It's a dangerous climb, but can be done in daylight. Anyways, I saw you in the meadow. . ."

"You were spying." I accused flatly.

"It's my job." The hawk said nonchalantly. "I feel I must warn you to be careful picking that itching weed. Helga would explode if she knew you possessed it."

"I'll be careful." I assured Hank. "It might come in handy one day."

"I'll leave you to get some rest." The hawk said as he hopped out the window. When he left, I picked up the feathers he left behind and placed them in a box under my bed. Shutting the window, I blew out the candle and settled in my creaking bed, pulling the threadbare covers on top of me. Within minutes, I was asleep.

A/n: First chapter done! Review and tell me if i should finish it. Please.